Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thanks ever so much to those who favorited/story alerted Chapter 3! You guys are great!

Chapter 4 – Old and New Friends

A furry friend is the heart

And soul of its master

The loss of a mabari hound

Renders life dark and bitter

And a despair that knows no bounds

∞ A poem by an unknown Mabari owner in Fereldan

Somewhat sunburnt by two weeks of hard travel, Elissa looked up at the white ruins of Ostagar. The tower spiralled into the sky, a beacon for weary travellers, while the rest of it sprawled over two cliffs and was joined by a single bridge. As she followed Duncan up the gleaming ramps, the wind whistled its way past her, whipping through her hastily bound hair. Hanging from her belt, her gauntlets thumped against her thigh. A chorus of distant barks went up and she smiled faintly. Cailan had brought his mabari hounds.

"This way." Duncan led her past a pair of nervous, wary sentry guards. They were largely ignored by the soldiers in the camp, until they reached a cordoned off area of grey tents.

"Duncan!" a voice exclaimed. A short, heavily muscled man in heavy armour approached them with a wide grin. The two men clasped forearms. "And who is this?"

"Adelveid, this is our latest recruit, Elissa. Elissa, this is one of the Wardens, Adelveid."

Adelveid's eyes swept her body. "And she can fight?" His gaze lingered on Elissa's unmarred skin. "She doesn't look battle-hardened."

Her eyes flashed. "Looks can be deceiving."

He grunted. "Well, at least you have a spark. You're a real warrior then? Not some willowy archer?"

"Archers are just as valuable," Duncan said mildly.

"No use once those blasted quick buggers creep up on you," Adelveid retorted. "Well, girl?"

"I can use both a sword and shield, and a bow." She glared at him.

"An axe?"

"I know how." But she hadn't touched one in years, to be honest.

"A two-handed sword?"

She pursed her lips. "No."

"Leastwise you admit it." He considered her. "I still don't like it, Duncan. We have few girls in the Order for a reason. And this one doesn't look like much."

Her hackles rose, and Duke growled at her side. "What gives you the authority to judge me like that?"

Duncan cleared his throat. "He's my second-in-command."

Oops, she thought to herself. Despite the faux pas, Elissa refused to back down, meeting him stare for stare.

Adelveid grinned, and clapped her on the shoulder. She flinched. "More than just a spark, I see. Glad to see it. Welcome to the Grey Wardens." He held out his hand.

She hesitated a moment and then reached out to take his hand as she'd seen her father do before. It was somewhat of an odd sensation, having her hand shaken instead of kissed. She retracted her hand hurriedly. "Thank you."

"Where are the others?" Duncan looked around the Grey Warden camp.

"Your little protégé is off running messages in the main camp. The twins are at the armourers, and the others are up at the practice grounds."

Duncan nodded, and then turned towards Elissa. "Leave your things there, in my tent, for the moment. You can put up your own tent later."

Elissa hurried to the tent he pointed out, and then set her bag on the floor of the canvas tent. After a moment she discarded the shield as well, although she kept the sword of Highever strapped to her back. She wasn't going to let that out of her sight for even a moment.

Duncan was waiting alone when she returned to him. He nodded briskly. "Good. Now, let us see to the king."

Once again Elissa found herself following Duncan through the maze of tents. It was loud with the chatter of men and the scrape of blades against metal. The smell of stew cooking over an open fire drifted through the camp. While not particularly appetizing, it did smell better than the dried rations she'd lived on for the past two weeks.

Duncan moved unerringly towards a large yellow tent adorned with brilliant tassels, and watched by three armed guards in silver armour. All three straightened at their approach, their armour clinking as they moved. "Warden-Commander."

"Is the King in?"

Her heart beat faster.

"Yes, ser." The guard glanced at Elissa curiously.

"Inform his Majesty that Duncan and the new Grey Warden recruit await him, if he has a moment," Duncan told him.

"Yes, ser." A different guard ducked into the tent. He re-emerged after a moment. "You can go in."

Gathering herself, she followed Duncan through the tent flap. Light streamed in through the canvas, casting light around the opulently furnished interior. Locked chests, low wooden tables and heavy carpets filled the royal tent, and a figure in golden armour was standing beside the deep red couch. Elissa groaned under her breath. Oh, Maker. He'd actually gone and ordered the damn armour. Anora would be hopping mad, no doubt. Elissa could still recall the shouted arguments they'd had in the royal apartments for days, with both women trying to convince Cailan that he really didn't need to draw any more attention to himself in golden armour on the battlefield. But then, what did a wife and a close friend's opinion ever mean against that of a favoured mistress?

"Ho there, Duncan!" Cailan greeted him, as bubbly as ever. The light gleamed off his shoulder-length blond hair, carefully braided at the temple.

Duncan offered him a brief bow. "Your Majesty."

"I thought you were going to miss all the fun." Cailan strode across the room and clasped forearms with the Warden.

Elissa sighed. She'd hoped that with an actual battle on his doorstep, Cailan would have finally realised that war was not all fun and games. Clearly not.

"Not if I can help it, your Majesty."

Cailan beamed. "I'm glad. It wouldn't have been like the old stories at all if you weren't."

Oh, Cailan….

Duncan smiled. "There were other Wardens here, your Majesty."

"But not the Warden-Commander of Ferelden." He clapped Duncan on his shoulder. "No matter. We will march into glory together, my friend." He tried to peer around him. "And this is your new recruit?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Duncan began.

Elissa stepped out from behind him.

Cailan's eyes widened. "Ellie!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed. A faint, but real, smile curved her lips for the first time since that fateful night. "Forgive me for not curtseying, your Majesty."

"Oh, stuff that." Cailan swept her into a tight hug. She froze for a moment and then went limp in his strong embrace for a moment, letting herself bask in the familiar grasp. He set her down at last, kissed her cheek and then stared down at her. "What in the name of Andraste are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Highever, getting some experience with running a castle? And where is your father? We are still awaiting his arrival."

All smiles fled Elissa's face.

"Lady Elissa is my recruit, your Majesty." Duncan looked faintly bemused at the interaction between the two.

"You recruited Ellie?" Cailan stared at them in disbelief. "I would never have thought the Teyrn would have let you come to battle. Especially given the, er, recent developments." He met her eyes, and then the smile on his youthful, unlined face wobbled at whatever he saw. "Ellie. What's happened?"

Her voice was flat. "It is my duty to inform you, your Majesty, that the Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland are dead, along with the rest of Highever Castle, at the hands of Arl Howe."

"What?" Cailan gaped at her.

"They're," her voice cracked, "d-dead."

"B-but Howe is a friend of your father's!"

A snarl escaped her lips. "Apparently not," she hissed venomously.

Despite his evident fury, Cailan's arms were gentle as he tugged Elissa against his chest. "I'm so sorry."

She dug her nails into her palms, feeling the sharp pain. "So am I."

"He will pay for what he has done," the king vowed. "What he has done is treason. I will see his head on a pike outside the palace." He named the punishment for treason, the very price that his mother had paid when captured by the Orlesians.

"No!" She pulled back from the comfort of his embrace. "His death is mine! Mine and Fergus's!"

"Ellie…"

Her eyes flashed. "No, Cailan. It wasn't you who encountered your nephew's body ripped to shreds on the floor of his bedroom. Nor you who had to leave your parents to die so that you had a better chance of escaping!"

"But it was my subjects he killed. People I am sworn to protect." Cailan shook his head.

"And it was my servants who were cut down as they fled the castle. Fergus's wife and child slaughtered in their beds." There was a shuffle of noise outside the tent, as the guards reacted uneasily to her raised voice.

"Lady Elissa," Duncan broke in, his expression disapproving. "Your duty as a Grey Warden comes first."

She didn't bother looking at him. "I will not forsake my duty to your Order, Duncan. But neither will I forget my duty as a daughter and as a Cousland."

"I am the king, Lady Elissa! I cannot sanction private vengeance. No matter how much you want it."

The look in Cailan's eyes as his gaze met hers was not entirely him. It was The King looking back at her.

Gritting her teeth, she bowed her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

She had no intention of obeying that directive.

Then Cailan was back again, as he asked, "How did this lead to you becoming a Warden?"

"Teyrn Cousland consented to the recruitment, your Majesty," Duncan said. "He acknowledged the need for more Wardens in this troubled time."

Elissa's lips tightened.

"I am surprised at that." Cailan eyed her. "He will not be happy, Ellie."

"I am aware of that," she said grimly. "Where is Fergus? I need to tell him."

He looked pained. "I'm sorry, Ellie. He's scouting the Wilds."

"So Highever's former Teyrn lies dead in his own castle, its current Teyrn is scouting darkspawn in the midst of the Horde and its only heir is about to become a Grey Warden?" Elissa demanded. "When will he be back?"

Cailan winced. "He's supposed to be back the day after tomorrow."

Duncan cleared his throat. "Your uncle sends his greetings, and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

"Ha!" Cailan scoffed. "Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters and the next few should be no different. I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted God! But without an Archdemon around, I suppose this will have to do." He sighed. Then he brightened. "Ellie, I expect you for dinner tonight."

Duncan frowned. "Excuse me, your Majesty, but perhaps it would be better if Elissa got to know her new comrades-in-arms?"

"Nonsense! She has days to do that. I haven't seen my friend in months. I really do insist." He turned hopeful eyes on her.

She bit her lip, and then nodded. "As you wish, Cailan."

"Splendid!"

There was a cough near the door, and Elissa turned to see a guard standing in the doorway. "Your Majesty, the mages are looking for you and the Teyrn. Do you wish to receive them in here?"

"No. I'd like to get out of this damn tent." Cailan shuddered. "Duncan, is there anything else? Ellie?"

"No, your majesty."

She shook her head.

"Then I bid you farewell. I shall see you later." Cailan ushered them outside. A pair of robed mages stood nearby, and Elissa suppressed a shiver. Duncan inclined his head to the king, and Elissa quickly bowed again. She watched as Cailan walked away to join the mages, the bright sun flashing off his golden armour. She could feel Duncan's gaze resting on her.

"Come, Elissa." Duncan moved away from the tent. She followed him for the length of several brightly coloured tents before he broke the silence. "You have an…interesting relationship with the King," he said at last, his face inscrutable.

"We spent a lot of time together when I was a child." Elissa didn't look at the Warden-Commander. Distantly, she heard the echoing thump of a blacksmith's hammer, and she could smell the familiar tang of metal armour filling the air.

"He is substantially older than you," Duncan eyed her.

She ignored the undercurrent in his voice. "Not really. He is but three years, and the Queen is six years. But my brother and I were the only children of similar rank, and so we were often forced together." Every time they were in Denerim, she'd been dropped off in the royal nursery while her parents were off with the late King and Queen. They'd had to learn to get along, she thought wryly, or else it would have been a very uncomfortable time for them all. "Was he right, about the Blight?"

Duncan shook his head slowly. "As I told your father, the Blight is far more serious than the King has been willing to admit. But I cannot force him to listen to me." He looked up at the sky. "I have things I must be doing."

Elissa glanced at him. "What do I do?"

"Feel free to explore the camp," Duncan told her. "You already know where the Wardens are camping. There may be some Wardens there for you to meet. You could set up your tent now if you like. If you meet Alistair, ask him to show you around. He can show you where to get lunch, if you are hungry."

"That was the warden Adelveid mentioned." Alistair. The name sounded vaguely familiar for some reason.

"Yes." Duncan nodded. "He is our newest Warden. He's about your age, you should get along well."

Elissa raised her eyebrows. They would see about that. "What does he look like?"

"A little taller than you, blond, most likely armoured and carrying a shield with the Grey Warden crest," Duncan answered. "He shouldn't be too hard to find."

"All right."

"I will see you later."

Elissa watched him go for a moment, patting Duke's head with her left hand. "Come on, boy. Let's do this then." She glanced around, trying to decide which way to go. The sound of barking drew her towards the left. The familiar sound of prayer came from a priestess on a nearby platform, a counterpoint to the rough barks of the mabari hounds howling up ahead. She approached the mabari kennels, Duke yipping at the sight of his own kind. It took her only a moment to spot several very familiar looking dogs.

"Excuse me, ser." A tall man standing nearby put his hand out to stop her reaching over the barrier. His brow was furrowed above black eyes, much like those of the dogs he was watching over. "These are the King's mabari. They tend not to like people they don't know."

Elissa laughed. "They know me…" she squinted at the insignia on his tunic, "Kennel Assistant." Lucky bounded up to her, his wide, wet tongue licking her hand enthusiastically. With her free hand she scratched the top of Bridget's head. The fur was warm and soft, a counterpoint to the sharp teeth peeking out below.

"You serve with the King's mabari?" The man frowned, as though trying to place her face.

"No." Elissa shrugged. "But I am a frequent visitor to the kennels. You must be new."

"Yes, ser." The assistant frowned. "I was hired two months ago."

"That's why you don't know me," Elissa smiled. As Lucky rolled over, she rubbed his stomach. "Have you been a good boy, Lucky?" The dog barked gleefully.

"My lady!" another voice, this one familiar, called.

Elissa twisted, spotting the short man striding towards them. "Kennel Master."

"I didn't know you were coming." He bowed formally, his red hair swinging freely in a wild mass. His skin was weathered from spending his days in the open sun with his charges, and he bore a long scar down the side of his face where a young pup had laid open his face two years before.

She hid the pain behind a false smile. "It was a last minute decision."

"Well, the hounds are glad to see you, your ladyship." He gestured with a large hand towards the hounds eagerly licking her hand. "But I have to take them for their meals before they get grumpy. You could come and visit them later."

"I will," she promised. Turning, she found herself facing a familiar green and bronze tent. Well then. Her stomach clenched. Taking hold of her courage with both hands, she walked towards Loghain's tent, wondering whether Cailan had told him what had happened.

"You approach the camp of Teyrn Loghain," the helmeted guard called sternly. "State your business."

"I'm Elissa Cousland," she said, watching his expression change. "Is the Teyrn within?"

"He is," a deep voice said from behind the guard. Loghain Mac Tir emerged from the tent, his silver River Dane armour gleaming in the sun. "Lady Cousland."

Well, that answered that question, she thought grimly. She crossed her arms across her chest and bowed. "Your Grace." As she straightened, she let her eyes drink in the sight of him. His black hair, still untouched by white, had a single thin braid dangling from each temple, the rest of it brushed back. Darkened circles beneath deep-set pale blue eyes told her he hadn't been sleeping well, most likely staying up to plan strategy or argue with Cailan.

"Come." He gestured to her, holding open the tent flap.

She slipped past him, catching a whiff of his familiar scent of open grass fields and forests, under the strong stench of silverite armour. The interior of the tent was simple, with only a bed, a couple of chairs and a desk covered in maps and parchment. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the tent, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

He faced her. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Elissa."

"Thank you," she said evenly.

His hands twitched. For him that was the equivalent of holding out his arms. Tears she'd been holding back for two weeks rushed up inside her, and her knees buckled. He caught her, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling him against her.

"It hurts," she whispered. "They're all dead, and it hurts." Duke nudged her with his head.

"I know." He brushed her tears away with a gentle thumb, his fingers lingering on her skin.

Her shoulders shook. "Why did he did he do it? What have we ever done to him?"

"Sometimes you don't have to do anything. Some people just want power," he said bitterly.

The metal of his armour was cool and bit into the flesh of her hands, but she pressed closer to him regardless. His body was solid and strong, and there, even through the thick metal of their armour. He was steady and unchanging, exactly as she'd left him nearly four months ago. It was exactly what she needed. She let the tears fall against his neck, and curled more tightly into the only safe haven she had, now that her parents were gone.

At length, she gathered herself together, pulling her shattered emotions together and pushing away her grief into the locked corner of her heart yet again. "Thank you."

His arms tightened in response, keeping her from escaping. "Cailan said he told you Howe would die for what he did to you."

Elissa nodded against his breastplate. "Yes."

"Good," he said gruffly. He cleared his throat. "There was also something about you having been recruited into the Wardens."

She pulled out of his arms, anticipating his reaction. She would need to stand on her own two feet for this confrontation. "Yes."

He stiffened. "Are you mad? Why in Maker's name do you want to be a Warden? They're just a cover for the Orlesians, damn it!"

Duke growled defensively, his muscles tensing. She caught his collar, shooting her dog a warning look. "The Grey Wardens fight the darkspawn and the Blight. I know you don't trust them, but you know I would never defend Orlesian interests in Ferelden, even as a Warden."

"This is no damned Blight," he growled.

"Duncan thinks it is."

His mouth twisted. "Yes well, you'll forgive me for not agreeing with that fool." He turned to pace.

Fool? Duncan was a lot of things, but she hadn't seen anything that would make him a fool. "He seems very sure of himself."

"Of course he is." He whirled towards her. "The Orlesian wants any reason to bring in the bloody Chevaliers! I've been trying to talk Cailan down from opening the borders for weeks now. If he had his way, we'd be neck deep in Chevaliers and a heart-beat from being under the Orlesian yoke once again."

Elissa frowned. "He's not Orlesian. He's Ferelden."

"But he lived in Orlais," he snapped. "I don't trust his loyalties, and you shouldn't either." He resumed his pacing. "We fought for our freedom, Maric, Rowan and I. Why is everyone so determined to undo all we've done?"

"My father fought in those battles as well," she said sharply. "I've heard what it was like under the Occupation, and I have no desire to see the Orlesians back. Whether I am a Warden or not."

"You didn't live it." He glared at the tent wall.

"No." She took a breath. "I didn't. But I've studied history and I've heard my parents' nightmares." She reached for his arm.

He whirled towards her, jerking his arm from her grip. "I could forbid this." His eyes flashed.

She bristled, her hand dropping back to her side. "I am not yet your wife, Loghain." And even if I was, I wouldn't roll over any easier.

Loghain's face hardened. "We have signed the betrothal documents. You are honour bound to listen to me."

"Since when have I ever reacted well to being told what to do?" She glared at him. "And I should slap you for that. If I listen to you, my love, it certainly will not be because of honour or a duty that does not exist till we are wed!"

He stiffened, and then the anger seemed to drain from him. "Elissa."

He reached for her hands, but she snatched them away. "You speak as though this was a political marriage and I one of those simpering noblewomen you've had throwing themselves at you for years." She crossed her arms across her chest. "You may be the Teyrn of Gwaren and my betrothed but I am Elissa Cousland. No man can order me around."

"I…I know." Loghain closed his eyes for a moment. "Forgive me. I meant no offence."

If she hadn't been so insulted she'd have gaped at him. Loghain, apologising? As it was, she was far too hurt. "You meant no offence?" she demanded incredulously. "You just tried to order me like your servant!"

"I spoke without thinking." He turned his hands palm up. "I am sorry. You are right, of course." He sighed. "You are certain this is what you want to do?"

No. "Yes."

He looked up at her slowly. "If I must…accept this, will you at least tell me why, then?"

She braced herself. "In exchange for helping me escape Castle Cousland, my father agreed with Duncan that I should become a Grey Warden."

Loghain's eyes widened. "What?"

She winced. That probably hadn't been the best way to phrase it.

"Your Grace?" a tentative voice came from the guard outside. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Loghain said curtly, before turning back to her. "He blackmailed you into agreeing to become a warden?" He looked ready to charge out of the tent and cut Duncan down where he stood.

"Don't." She caught his arm in a grip she was quite sure hurt her unprotected hands a lot more than it did his armour.

He snarled. "Why not? It was bad enough when I thought it was your choice, but now? Now he goes too far!"

Her shoulders straightened, and she stared him in the eye. "I don't agree with what he did." She remembered with grim amusement the tantrum she'd thrown at Duncan. But she'd had two weeks to think about it, and come to an uneasy truce with her future since then. "But I can accept he did what he thought he had to."

The fury hadn't abated in his face. "So?"

"What good would killing him do? I will still become a Grey Warden." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I gave my word and I refuse to break this promise. I have never shirked my duty before, and I'm not going to start now."

"It was a promise you should never have had to make."

"Maybe not." She straightened her back. "But I am a Cousland, bound by my word to Duncan as well as my promise to my father. And I will not break it." Her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and she refused to look away.

"You have far too much of the Cousland pride and stubbornness." Loghain scowled, but his tone was resigned. "Very well. If this is what you want."

"It is," she said firmly. As her spine lost its tension, Duke relaxed by her side, sensing the threat to his owner was gone.

"I am increasingly glad I gave you that armour, then." Loghain sighed. "Though this does make things more complicated."

And this was where the axe would fall, she thought. "I understand," she locked her voice, refusing to let it waver. Her stomach twisted. "You'll want this back, then?" She reached for her neck and drew the silver chain over her head.

His hand closed around her wrist, halting the movement. "What are you doing?" He stared at her the necklace and ring suspended in her hands. "You thought I'd end our betrothal because you've been conscripted?"

Elissa tugged her wrist free and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. "Won't you?" She fought to keep her voice steady. "My duty is now to the Grey Wardens…and apparently Wardens cannot hold titles or get involved in politics." She willed him to leave it there, to let her go off and lick her wounds in private.

Loghain scowled heavily. "That's why I said it would be complicated, but I never meant that I would end this. I thought you knew me better than that." His gaze searched her face. "Damn it, Elissa, why are you being like this?"

She kept her voice steady only with great effort. "Because you deserve someone who can be everything you need. A wife who can bring you political strength, help you run Gwaren and provide an heir to the Teyrnir now that Anora is Queen. Not someone who will spend her entire life running around after darkspawn and whatever else Grey Wardens are supposed to do."

"You know I don't care about politics or heirs," Loghain growled. "My steward can run Gwaren as he's done since Celia's death. I don't want a Teyrna; I want a wife I won't be tempted to throw off the nearest cliff."

She couldn't help the smile at the familiar statement.

His face blanked. "Unless this is your way of saying you want to end the betrothal?"

"No!" she said instantly. "No, I don't. I love you. But…"

"Then, I am not letting you go, Warden or not. You made me a promise too." He took her shoulders and shook her lightly. "We will announce our betrothal next month as we planned, and we will marry next year. If Duncan says you can't, Cailan will get involved. Duncan will not put up a fuss over one recruit in the face of the King's objections. We will find a way."

"All right." She could feel her shoulders relaxing.

He touched her cheek softly. "Then we are done with this foolishness?"

"Yes."

"Good." He took the necklace from her hands, his warrior's hands nimbly sliding the delicate silver ring from it. Without a word, he took her hand and slipped it onto her third finger, next to her mother's signet ring, before closing her fist around the empty chain. "I have work to do. But I will see you for dinner tonight."

She hesitated, wondering if she dared ask. Then she looked up into blue eyes. "Can I…stay the night?" Both of them knew she was asking much more than that.

His hands tightened on hers. "Elissa." Their courtship, though far more affectionate in their own way than most noble courtships, had not moved quite that far. Elissa had always been painfully aware of her duty to her family, and to her future husband, to go to her marriage bed a virgin.

"Please," she whispered. "I…don't want to be alone."

He looked torn. "I cannot…will not take advantage of your grief."

"It's not grief. I love you," she said a little more firmly. "And with the war, and the Wardens…I don't know when we'll marry. And if I die in the battle, I don't want to die without…loving."

"You won't die." His eyes flared.

"Please," she repeated.

His gaze softened further, and he slowly nodded. "All right." He bent to kiss her chastely.

Relief flooded her, and she clung to him.

"I really do have to work," he said after a long moment. She reluctantly let him hurry her from his tent. As she walked away, she looked down at the ring. She'd only ever worn it once, when he'd first offered it to her after her father agreed to the marriage. After that day, she'd hidden it on the necklace around her throat until the betrothal would be publicly announced. Her thumb slid over the smooth metal.

A man crashed into her, sending her sprawling to the floor. She blinked to clear her eyes and found herself staring up into the face of one of the knights.

"Watch where you're going, girl!"

"Excuse me?" she demanded, climbing to her feet. For a moment she wished she was tall enough to look down her nose at him. "I believe you were the one who crashed into me."

He opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped, his eyes fixed on the armour she wore. He looked back at her face, seemingly trying to decide whether the expensive and well-made armour indicated someone of importance. "My apologies….?"

"Lady Cousland," she said coolly, ignoring the pang of pain in her heart. It was the first time she'd ever introduced herself by the title that had been her mother's, and should have been Oriana's, but was now hers. At least until she was officially a Warden.

He swallowed. "My apologies, Lady Cousland."

"Apology accepted, Ser…?"

"Harmond, my lady."

"Ser Harmond. You might want to consider being a little more polite to people." She stepped around him. "If you will excuse me?" Leaving him behind, she headed for the far end of the camp. After a brief stop at the Quartermaster's to sell the various trinkets she'd picked up from Howe's soldiers, and purchase an assortment of the misnamed health poultices that would give her a false second wind in battle, she continued north.

As she passed the infirmary, her attention was drawn to the pale green tents of the Highever forces up ahead. Veering off towards the main camp, it took her only a few minutes to approach the tents. Standing just inside the boundary, she let her eyes drift along the familiar faces.

"Lady Elissa!" A blonde woman stopped in her tracks. Her cry drew the attention of the other soldiers and servants nearby.

She offered them all an honest, if small, smile. "Good morning."

"I didn't know you were coming with the Teyrn." Captain Hyack approached. "Where is he?"

Elissa's muscles tensed.

"My lady?" The captain asked tentatively.

She took a steadying breath. "Forgive me, Captain. I am sorry to inform you that Arl Howe murdered everyone at Castle Cousland the night you left. I was the only one to escape."

Dead silence met her statement, and then there was an explosion of sound as the soldiers shouted. She couldn't make out the individual words, but their fury was easy enough to discern.

Hyack raised a hand to summon silence, but it took a long time for the angry warriors to calm. Then it was broken by a sob from one of the newer soldiers, a recently married young man whose wife had been staying in the village below the Castle.

"Lady Cousland, I grieve for your loss," Hyack said formally.

"Thank you, Captain. I grieve for yours." The gruff soldier had been married twenty years and lived at Highever Castle, with a young son still at home. They too would be dead. "For all of you."

"Thank you, my lady." He paused. "What happened?"

"His soldiers were not actually delayed," she kept her voice calm. "They attacked in the night, when everyone was abed."

"Were there were no other survivors, my lady?" the red-headed Iriena asked weakly.

Elissa spread her hands helplessly. "The Grey Warden, Duncan, helped me escape but I don't know of anyone else who escaped. It was chaos, and there may have been some who escaped early on, but I don't know who or where to. I'm sorry."

"The Teyrn was killed?"

"Yes," she said tightly. "Stabbed in the back by Howe's men." Her hands clenched by her side.

"The Teyrna?"

"When my father…arranged for the Grey Warden to help me escape, Mother stayed behind to cover our escape." She swallowed. "She is dead."

"What of the little boy, Oren?" another woman cried.

Elissa's throat tightened further. "He was murdered in his bedroom."

The captain held his hand up to stop any further questions. "Then the Lord Fergus is now Teyrn."

She nodded silently.

"When do we march on Howe?" A loud, brash-faced man shoved his way from the back of the forces. There was a murmur of agreement.

"The king has promised that once the darkspawn are taken care of, he will have him executed for treason." Her jaw set. "We will have our vengeance!"

A cheer rose up.

Hyack held up a hand for silence again. "Will you be staying with the forces until then, my lady?"

She nodded. "I have been recruited into the Grey Wardens."

A murmur and shuffle was the response to that. "Congratulations, my lady." His wide eyes betrayed his surprise though his voice was steady. "Will you be staying with the Grey Wardens, or will you be staying in the Teyrn's tent?"

A fission of surprise shot through her. She hadn't thought of that. Of course, the Highever soldiers would expect her to sleep in the tent brought for her father, or perhaps Fergus's own. "I'm afraid I have to stay with the Grey Wardens."

"Of course." The captain inclined his head again. "If you change your mind, or if you need anything, his Grace's tent is open to you."

"Thank you, Captain."

"If there's anything we can do for you, my lady…" one of the elven servants offered.

"Thank you." She paused, considering. "I may require a bath tonight."

"Yes, my lady." The servant bowed.

"If there is nothing else, my lady," Hyack began, "the men do need to get back to work?"

"Yes, of course."

Hyack turned to the crowd. "Back to work, all of you. The better you prepare now, the faster we'll kill these darkspawn and the faster we can march on Howe!"

With a polite smile, she made her farewells to the captain and then turned to head back out of the main camp. It was probably time to find Alistair, she supposed. After asking several people for directions, she found herself heading up into the ruins of an abandoned temple.

As she climbed the ramp, she heard an irritated voice drift down. "What is it now? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

Her attention caught, she headed towards the voices. Another voice, this one good humoured, responded: "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence."

She stepped over the top of the ramp, and immediately spotted the speakers.

"What Her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me!" the tall, balding mage retorted. "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add."

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" The other speaker was a young blond man in armour, with a shield bearing the griffin crest of the Wardens strapped to his back over a sword.

Alistair, then. Elissa smothered an amused smile at his words.

"Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner." The mage crossed his arms. Perhaps he'd stamp his foot next?

"Yes," the Warden drawled. "I was harassing you by delivering a message."

A dark scowl appeared on the mage's face. "Your glibness does you no credit."

"And here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you." He paused for effect. "The grumpy one."

The mage sighed. "Enough. I will speak to the woman if I must." He stormed past Elissa, nearly shoving her. "Get out of my way, fool."

The Warden turned towards her with a wry expression. "You know, one good thing about the Blight is the way it brings people together." Facing her, he looked even younger than she'd originally thought. Younger than she was, even.

Elissa stared at him in disbelief. Did he really just say that? "You are a very strange man." There was something about him that seemed very familiar.

"You're not the first woman to tell me that," he quipped. Then he paused, thought creasing his brow. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage, do you?"

I'm dressed in armour and carrying a sword and you ask if I'm a mage? "Why? Would that make your day worse?"

"Hardly. I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given moment," he said.

"Well, if I suddenly develop the ability to turn you into a toad, I'll make sure I warn you in advance," Elissa agreed, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

"Good to know." He grinned, dark brown eyes laughing. "I'm Alistair, one of the Grey Wardens. And you are?"

She took the offered hand, feeling the hard calluses from sword-work and knowing he could feel the softer ones on her own palm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Elissa Co...Elissa. Duncan recruited me." Her name would get around soon enough, but she didn't need, or want, to intimidate her only source of information on the Grey Wardens.

Alistair snapped his fingers. "Of course, I should have realised, I apologise." His gaze drifted to Duke, sitting patiently at her feet. A wide grin appeared on his face. "You have a mabari! Or rather, it has you." He crouched, holding out his hand. "And hello to you too. What's your name, handsome?"

Duke barked, and licked the hand enthusiastically.

"Duke," Elissa answered, a little bemused. Duke didn't normally warm up to people that quickly. He was a war dog, not a lap dog, as Fergus was so fond of reminding her.

"Interesting name." Alistair's eyes danced.

"He acted like one when I first got him. I mean it. He expected everything to be brought to him on a silver platter."

The supposed war dog rolled over onto his back to get his belly scratched.

"Aren't you a good boy," Alistair murmured, rubbing hard. Duke wriggled in delight. "Where did you get him? They're supposed to be trained before you get them."

Elissa swallowed painfully. "My fa…I know someone who breeds them. And he gave Duke to me."

"Untrained?" Alistair looked up at her.

"He normally is quite well behaved." Elissa glared at her companion, who was currently twining himself around Alistair's legs. "And a war dog, not a pet."

He laughed. "Don't blame him. I have somewhat of a knack with dogs. And how long have you been with your mistress, hmm?"

Duke gave him a series of growls and barks.

"I see." Alistair nodded gravely, pretending to have understood. "That long, huh? And are you a good boy for her?"

Duke wagged his tail.

"That's a clear enough answer." Alistair gave him a last pat and then stood up. Duke whined.

"Something of a knack?" Elissa reached out to pat her hound.

"Well, I guess they all see me as pack or something." He shrugged. "I grew up around a lot of dogs. Maybe the stink rubs off?"

"So you haven't bathed for a few years, huh?"

"Yup," he agreed cheerfully. "Well, how about I show you around the camp then?" She nodded her consent, and they set off down the ramp. "Are you hungry? We could go to the mess tent."

"That sounds good," she agreed.

As they walked past the infirmary, Elissa caught a glimpse of a cage with a man inside it. One glance at him and the guard watching over him told her enough, and she smothered her irritation. She had never had time for those who betrayed their oaths and tried to flee a battle. Bitterly, she noted that, in effect, that was what she had done… save that it had been on her father's orders.

Determinedly, she shifted her train of thoughts.

A pained cry drew her attention to one of the occupied camp beds. A moment later, she recognised the man was one of her brother's soldiers. An elderly woman in a brown senior enchanter's robe knelt beside him, her hands glowing as she murmured softly to him. A healer, then. A mage. Elissa veered and headed over, a confused Alistair behind her. As she neared, the soldier's eyes closed, and his face relaxed into sleep. The mage straightened with a soft groan, her hand going to her lower back.

"Will he be all right?" Elissa asked warily, eyeing the pale face she hoped was only sleeping.

The woman turned around to face the new arrivals. Her white hair was drawn back into a neat bun, revealing a wide forehead and a heavily lined face. Surprise and confusion flashed across her face. "Yes, he'll be fine and walking around by tomorrow afternoon." There was no deceit in her gaze, and Elissa's spine relaxed slightly.

The woman's gaze slipped past her. "Alistair."

His face brightened. "Senior Enchanter."

The mage's attention switched back to Elissa. "So you are Duncan's new recruit, I take it," she offered a warm smile. "He is not a man easily impressed. You should be proud." Elissa's return smile was more than a little bitter, but the woman appeared to ignore it. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the King."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said automatically, the manners drilled into her head over twenty years rising automatically to the forefront. "I am Elissa." As their hands touched, she cringed inwardly. Something crawled up her spine.

"Well met, and good luck to you on the battlefield." Both Wynne's smile and her brown eyes were amused, almost light-hearted. "To all of us, in fact."

Elissa looked at her in surprise. Mages, on the battlefield? "You'll be fighting beside the king then?"

"Not precisely beside him." Wynne shook her head. "The Grey Wardens will be on the front lines, not the mages. Still, we all have our parts to play, and even the Chantry must accept that magical spells are particularly effective at killing darkspawn. Even healers such as I have our uses in combat, bolstering the abilities of the other soldiers. And to defeat the darkspawn, we must work together." She had a warm maternal air, like a grandmother.

"That's what Duncan said!" Alistair interjected.

Wynne nodded. "Sadly, it's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."

"Are there a lot of mages here?"

"There are twenty-four of us." Wynne smiled. "Not many. But our primal spells have quite an effect against darkspawn." A cry from another bed drew their attention. "Excuse me." She nodded to them and then hurried to her next patient.

After a moment watching the silently sleeping soldier from Highever, she jerked her head at Alistair. "Shall we move on?"

"Sure," he agreed.

As they walked away, she glanced at him. "Tell me a little about yourself."

Alistair shrugged. "I was trained as a Templar. Duncan saw I wasn't happy, and figured that my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden."

A Templar? Well, that certainly explained the mage's reaction earlier. He didn't look like a Templar though. At least, none of the ones she'd ever met.

"You weren't happy there?" Given what she'd seen of his personality so far, she wasn't surprised.

A shadow crossed his face. "The Chantry raised me, and becoming a Templar was a decision made for me a long time ago. The grand cleric never would have let me go, if Duncan hadn't forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him." The devotion in his voice was plain.

"You speak fondly of Duncan," she noted.

"I spent years in that Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate. Duncan was the first person who cared what I wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the grand cleric to help me."

"I see," she said politely. He certainly didn't care what I wanted, did he?

"Dinner time!"

The red-haired dwarf clambered to his feet. The glow of the bonfire flames danced across his face, shadows interspersing with the black tattoos on his face. Sitting with a casteless dwarf had been a new experience for Elissa. Her rank had kept her above the 'undesirables', though she had made friends among servants at the palace and in Cousland Castle, she'd never met someone as low on the social hierarchy as Farthic.

The other Wardens all rose. Of the thirty-one of them gathered around the fire, she was the only woman. There were twenty-two humans of assorted descent, including two Orlesians, a fact she imagined had displeased Loghain to no end. Seven elves and two dwarves made up the rest of the Wardens.

Alistair looked down at her where she sat on a log. "Aren't you coming?" His open face was creased in a frown of confusion.

"No, I have a dinner appointment with someone else." She smiled at him reassuringly. "You go on."

One of the men, already partially drunk, laughed raucously. "Sorry, lady, no can do. It's tradition to spend the first night with a new recruit getting drunk! And we have three of them!" He grabbed her upper arm from behind.

On edge after her family's murder and the emotional wringer of the day, her mind went blank and instinct took over. She grabbed his hand, bending back the fingers to get him to loosen his grip. As he yelped, she drew him over her hip, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Andraste, what have I done? Well, she was off to a rousing good start with her fellow Wardens, wasn't she? She coughed awkwardly. "My…apologies. I don't take well to being startled."

Disbelieving silence reigned. Then one of the other men, Andran, laughed. "That's what you get for messing with a woman who doesn't want you, Grent." Grent, climbing to his feet, scowled at him. He turned towards her. "But he has a point. We have a tradition."

She smiled at him politely. "I'm sorry. But I really can't."

"Duncan?" Andran turned towards his commander.

He shook his head slowly. "Not tonight, Andran."

Andran's eyes widened. "Maker, who are you meeting for dinner?"

With supremely bad timing that made Elissa want to swear, there was the sound of scuffling feet and then an elven servant appeared on the edge of the circle. "Lady Elissa?"

Elissa ignored the looks from the others. "Yes?"

He bowed. "His Majesty is ready for dinner, my lady."

Still swearing at his timing, Elissa rose to her feet. "I'll be right there." She brushed off the seat of her dark green trousers, bought in one of the villages they'd passed on the way to Ostagar, and turned to follow the servant, feeling the burning curiosity behind her.

He led her through the maze of tents that she was just beginning to learn. As they neared the yellow tent surrounded by torches and armed guards, she heard raised voices coming from within. She cleared her throat. "I think I'll be fine from here."

The servant glanced at her, at the tent, and then back at her. She nodded. "Yes, my lady."

Alone, Elissa continued towards the tent. The guard glanced at her face, and then stepped aside.

"…be borne. You have a duty, Cailan!"

"Anora is fine with it."

"She is your wife. Do you think she is happy with your mistresses?"

"It was an arranged marria-"

Elissa pushed open the tent flap. "Your voices, my lords, can be heard from half-way across the camp."

Cailan, dressed informally in a pale green silk doublet and brown breeches, turned towards her with a look of relief. Opposite him, still clad in his armour, Loghain's harsh face was set in angry lines. Plates of food steamed on a heavy wooden table nearby.

Loghain spared her a nod before returning his attention to the king. "Whether it was an arranged marriage or not makes no difference." He glared. "You are making my daughter the laughing stock of the kingdom!"

Cailan waved dismissively. "No-one knows, Loghain."

Elissa's anger surged. He was her best friend, but sometimes he was as oblivious as a bull, and just as tactful.

"No-one knows?" Loghain's hands clenched into fist around the golden goblet. "No-one knows? Did you think your personal guards never noticed you bringing whores into your bedchambers? Or realised why they were standing guard outside women's bedchambers overnight?"

"They would never tell."

"And the servants?" Elissa broke in. "Gossip spreads in the palace, Cailan. One servant noticing a woman sneaking out and it is all over the palace in minutes."

"No-one would dare say anything to Anora," he insisted.

"They don't have to!" She pressed her lips together. "All they have to do is give her pitying looks, or laugh behind their hands when she enters a room. Everyone knows. And Anora knows it." She could still remember Habren's overloud giggles last summer over the Queen being unable to 'satisfy' her husband. Anora had paled and her lips had turned white, but she had soldiered on as though she hadn't heard the indiscreet buffoon.

"Anora hasn't said anything."

No, Anora wouldn't. She was far too much like her father for her own good. "Even if the servants didn't talk, Cailan, the fact that Anora isn't pregnant after five years of marriage tells people that something is wrong."

Cailan scowled. "It's not my fault she's barren."

Elissa winced, anticipating the impending outburst.

"Barren?" Loghain fairly bellowed.

"Shh." She rested a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her. "The whole camp will hear you."

He gritted his teeth, but dropped his voice, "Barren? Of course she's barren if you don't go to her bed!"

Elissa wondered if a conversation could get any more awkward than discussing your lack of a sex life with your wife, with your wife's father while his second wife-to-be looked on. But it was the price the king paid for having his father-in-law as his closest advisor, she supposed.

"We tried," Cailan said sharply. "For three years. But nothing happened. And Anora is a close friend, but I don't love her like that. Nor does she love me." His voice was rising throughout.

"I agreed to wait to marry Elissa, to give you another year to try to have a child without the pressure of our wedding and the ensuing social debacle," Loghain raged. "And now I find out you're not even taking that seriously!"

Cailan glared. "You didn't do that for me. You did it for Anora. To protect her social standing once you combine the blood of two Teyrnirs."

Elissa winced as she saw the expression on Loghain's face darken. If they were going to keep shouting…

"Perhaps this isn't the best place for this conversation?" She glanced nervously at the thin canvas walls.

Cailan nodded. "Yes. I think this conversation is over. Let's eat before the food goes cold. The mages' spells can only keep it warm so long." He turned towards the table.

Loghain's expression indicated he did not think their talk was done. He raised the goblet in his hand to his lips, and drained it in a single angry gulp. As he lowered the cup, his gaze shifted to her. His eyes softened, as he heeded the unspoken plea in her eyes. He nodded curtly.

"Come on, Ellie. Dinner!"