The Wreath of Highever.
Chapter Nine: More Crazy.
"What do you suppose it's all about?" Bethany Hawke asked her elder sister.
"Well, let me see," began Marian Hawke, raising a hand to stroke her chin absentmindedly as she answered her younger sister. "Everyone leaving the place, loud bangs and crashes, howls of pain… It's happy hour, obviously."
That answer had earned the elder Hawke a swift elbow in the ribs from her sister as they both shared a smile. The plan was that the Hawke sisters spent some time in the tavern and get bladdered with their brother, Carver, before he was sent north to Denerim with the rest of the Bann's men. Or rather, Marian and Carver get bladdered in the tavern while Bethany watched the pair make immense fools of themselves before Carver was sent north.
The word was; that Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir had declared himself as regent to the Queen of Ferelden, but has met with resistance by practically everyone else who wasn't Rendon Howe and the banns personally sworn to the teyrn. There was even the rumour that Teyrn Loghain had King Cailan murdered, so that he would take the throne. A rumour which – true or false – seemed to be believed by almost everyone in the country.
And it seemed that because of this, everyone in the Bannorn was gearing up for a fight. All the banns and arls in Ferelden were mustering their soldiers. Donning their armour. Sharpening their swords. If this carried on, Ferelden would face the threat of a civil war.
Ordinarily, Marian would say 'good on them' in regards to the banns opposing the teyrn, but unfortunately, her brother may soon be caught in the middle, along with the rest of the men under the nobility. And for all their arguments, Marian truly loved her brother, and wanted to keep him safe, whether he wanted her help or not. She wanted to keep an eye on him if he was ever called to fight, and would have enlisted with him to do just that, except…
Except that…Marian Hawke is her father's daughter.
Marian Hawke is a mage.
Being a mage wasn't all that bad. Sure if Marian came to be discovered and caught, she would almost definitely be dragged off to the nearest Circle, never to see the light of day again, or perhaps simply killed out of hand by some overzealous Templar. But in Marian's mind, she actually enjoys being a mage. To her, there was nothing like the feeling of magic filling her very being. There was nothing like the idea that the forces of nature and the elements were at her very command, ready to be unleashed upon those who would threaten those she cares about. There was nothing like the sparkle-fingers.
But enlisting in an army might just run the risk of her being discovered somehow, and if she were caught who knows what would happen if the rest of her family were investigated for mages. Who knows what would happen to Bethany and their mother.
No, for all the love she has for her brother, she can't risk the rest of her family, especially Bethany. When their father died, it was up to her to protect them. And protect them she shall.
Carver will be fine without her. He has to be.
And now, there they were, standing outside the tavern, listening to the sounds of chaos coming from inside, noting the large Mabari panting and sitting patiently by the door. Chest out and proud like a little soldier guarding some keep. Such a handsome dog, Marian noted with a little giggle at watching him standing guard like that. She gestured her sister to look at the big dog. "Try getting Dogmeat to do that!" she said to her sister, smiling. The Mabari cocked his head and stared at them, as if the elder Hawke had addressed him by his name instead of her own Mabari's. By the way he reacted, maybe she did. No, surely it had to be a coincidence.
A loud crashing sound emerged from the tavern, followed by a pained yell causing Marian and Bethany to wince in sympathy for the recipient of…whatever that was. "Well, there goes our plans for Carver," said Marian. "What do you think it's all about? Maybe it's about the strangers who arrived earlier."
"You mean the one who looked like the picture those soldiers showed us?"
Marian snorted, remembering the unattractive image of the wanted posters the teyrn's men had unceremoniously shoved in her face this morning. "No I don't think either of those women were Elissa Cousland. It can't be. The lady Cousland from those posters made abominations look pretty, and those two were so…"
"Pretty?" ventured Bethany, knowing all about her sister's preference for the company of her own gender. She wished Marian all the happiness in the world when it came to her love life, but give her a brave and handsome prince anytime. Especially one with a sexy accent, the younger Hawke thought, Nevarran, or maybe even Free Marcher. Mother had once told her about how ruggedly handsome the men from Starkhaven were, back when she was just a girl herself, before she met and married Bethany's father. The younger Hawke had to resist the urge to fan herself as the image of some imaginary Starkhavener prince entered her mind.
"'Pretty!' Exactly," answered Marian, pulling her sister away from her...imagery. "Unless of course the 'regent' employs the worst artist in Thedas to make those wanted posters."
"And that possibility has never entered your mind?"
"Never," answered Marian simply, as if her opinion were as that of Andraste herself.
The door to the Dane's Refuge tavern swung open, and exited a small group of armoured men looking like they had just been through a war, their armour clanking noisily as they dragged themselves as far away from the tavern as they could. "Well, they certainly looked like they had a good time!" Marian told her sister as the soldiers hobbled past them.
"And so did they," noted Bethany, nodding toward another group of people – the party of strangers who arrived in Lothering earlier – exited the tavern, followed by the Mabari who was sitting by the door and…
"Sister Leliana?" Bethany whispered to herself, wondering what business a lay sister like her – a woman as kind and gentle as she – had in a tavern brawl with the teyrn's men and three strangers.
"Wait!" yelled Leliana just as they were about to leave the boundaries of the village. Alistair was helping Elissa along as they moved at a brisk place, the lady Cousland still clutching her midsection with her free arm whilst the other was firmly gripped across the Grey Warden's shoulders. They needed to leave the village, quickly, before anyone else decided to arrest them.
"Look," said the young woman from her dreams, what was her name again? Elissa. That was a pretty name, Leliana noted. "I appreciate your help back there, but we need to get out of here."
"I know," replied the Orlesian, her pace keeping up with the rest of the group. "Those men said you are Elissa Cousland, a traitor to the throne of Ferelden."
That had stopped them dead in their tracks. Elissa tore herself from the Warden's hold and spun to face Leliana. "So is that it?" she accused. "You help us fight off Loghain's men, win my trust, and then plan to turn me in yourself for whichever amount of reward is on my head?" She grit her teeth, ignoring the pain in her midsection as she unsheathed her sword. "Well then, I invite you to try," cold eyes watched this older woman carefully, watching for any move she could make, knowing just what she may be capable of, if her prowess in the tavern were any judge.
Leliana's eyes had widened in shock as they took in the sight of this young woman's naked blade raised towards her. Did she really think that she was some kind of bounty hunter? The Orlesian certainly understood the misunderstanding; it was certainly a good way to gain a mark's trust before betraying them, at least if seducing them outright was somehow not an option. It was what she would have done if she were still…well, if she were still a spy and an assassin, if she were still a thief and a seductress, if she were still a bard of Orlais.
But she is no longer a bard of Orlais, or a bard of anywhere for that matter. She is Sister Leliana, of the Lothering chantry. Or at least she was, now that her dreams have become much clearer. Leliana was certain that they were messages from the Maker, they simply had to be! How else could she dream of a woman she had never even met, or even a man she never knew had existed until today? When she dreamed of dogs, they were there, the proud Mabari and the little mutt clashing the bear and the dragon. Leliana knew, deep within her heart, that she was meant to help these two young people. The Maker willed it, and she will obey.
But still, this was not how she imagined meeting the girl of her dreams. Neither was brawling with soldiers, her mind pointed out with a mirthless chuckle. Leliana watched the younger woman's movements. Maker, but she was beautiful, the Orlesians heart told her. And indeed this young Fereldan was a beauty to behold. The dark hair, the oval face, those pretty ice-blue eyes, and the way she moved; her noble bearing which betrayed the fact to her that she was a highborn lady. Were this woman ever to visit Orlais, she would no doubt be dragged off to some lord or lady's bed before she had even time to breathe. She would certainly have no end of suitors there.
And not just that, but Leliana thought her name sounded familiar. Elissa Cousland. The only Couslands she had ever known of were the Cousland family, the lords of Highever, a family most respected among the nobility – not only here and in her homeland, also – a family some even consider having a stronger claim to the throne than even King Cailan. Was this 'Elissa' then the teyrn's daughter, perhaps? But if so, what did she do? What treason did this noble lady commit against the crown? No, Leliana realised looking into the Fereldan's eyes. Her's were not the eyes of a traitor, not even those of a criminal. Was she then accused of a crime she had not even committed? Yes, she was. Leliana was sure of her innocence, if only from personal experience…
This woman was innocent, or her name was not Leliana.
Then why has she been accused of treason?
Admittedly, being cloistered in a chantry in the southernmost reaches of Ferelden does not leave one much opportunity to be updated on current events, she had only known about the lady Cousland's 'crimes' when the regent's men arrived, searching for her. Beyond that, there were only rumours. Rumours of plotting, of murder, of war.
Were those rumours true?
But this was not the time for questions. Leliana watched the young man hold back the young warrior before she skewered her with her blade – or at least try – Leliana held back the smirk, knowing full well that she was no wallflower, and was fully capable of taking her on. Their dog – a large and rather handsome specimen of a Mabari war hound – growled at her and bared his teeth, fully prepared to die for his mistress if need be. That was the sort of dedication only a dog was capable of, and Leliana could fully appreciate such loyalty. The last of their party - the sultry young woman who was dressed like a barbarian - did nothing, however, instead standing several paces behind them, arms crossed and wearing a look of impatience upon her face.
Leliana took a step back and raised her hands, showing them that she was no threat to them.
"Please," she began, "I am not here to claim a bounty, yours or anyone's. Though you should know that the one on your head is a generous one, indeed," she gave them a disarming smile at the mention of the lady's bounty, one which Elissa did not appreciate as her glare intensified. Right, that didn't help matters, Leliana realised. "I'm sorry, but I speak the truth. I am not going to harm you."
"Then why are you following us?" demanded Elissa. "Why did you even help us? You don't even know us."
"I apologise for interfering," the Orlesian began, "but I couldn't sit by and not help."
"And who are you, anyhow?" asked the Grey Warden.
Leliana took a deep breath, and prepared herself and her explanation. These people certainly deserved one. "Let me introduce myself," this was it. "I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry in Lothering. Or I was."
'Was?' Elissa, Alistair, and Morrigan each shared a look of question amongst each other before Elissa bade her to elaborate on that. "What does that mean?" she asked her before wincing in pain, her stomach still bothering her.
"I joined the Chantry to live a life of religious contemplation," answered the Orlesian sister. "But I am no priest, not even an initiate."
"Oh, right," quipped Alistair, "then you're just a houseguest of the Chantry? Why didn't I think of that?"
"I daresay that is because you have the equivalent intelligence of a toadstool?" answered Morrigan. "Correction, I am certain that the toadstool in question possesses a greater mind than yours, Alistair." The witch then turned to the Orlesian before the Warden had a chance to retort. "And you," Morrigan addressed her. "Surely there are better hospitalities to enjoy than from those fools in the Chantry? Why not involve yourself with someone with more wealth than sense? The world certainly has no shortage of those, and you certainly have the…charms for it."
Leliana was about to reply to that, ready to give as much cattiness as she had received, when Elissa decided to intervene. "Elissa Cousland," she introduced herself, "'traitor to the crown', apparently. This is Alistair, Morrigan, and Dogmeat."
Dogmeat barked happily.
"A pleasure," Leliana said sincerely, bowing her head in greeting. "The regent Loghain accused you of being a traitor to Ferelden, lady Cousland, but I don't believe that to be true. And I know that after what happened in the tavern, you will need all the help you can get."
You can say that again, Elissa snorted in her mind. This was the second time that Loghain's men had tried to arrest her, though thankfully the outcome of the latter occasion was much more preferable. But it was only a matter of reaching Redcliffe, there, she would be safe. Arl Eamon would surely aid her cause, to bring Loghain to justice and help her place Howe's head upon a spike.
"That's why I'm coming with you," finished the Orlesian, causing the group to each stare at her.
"I'm sorry, what?" asked Elissa.
"I'm coming with you," Leliana repeated, in all seriousness. "The Maker told me to help you. Surely he would not do so without good reason."
'The Maker said so.' Well that was certainly not something Elissa heard every day, especially in a serious tone of voice coming from this Orlesian. Elissa tried very hard not to laugh at such a thing, as did Alistair and Morrigan, each of them visibly trying to keep a straight face.
They failed.
"Could you…elaborate?" Elissa asked her as they snickered. Of the three, only Elissa stopped snickering shortly after they started. This was cruel of her, she realised, and cruelty did not become a one of her lineage. She is a Cousland, and Couslands do not act like this. They were better than that.
Leliana lowered her head, completely understanding the insanity of such a claim that the Maker told her so. If she were in their shoes, she would certainly react the same way, but that did not relieve any of the hurt she felt from their laughter. But she needed them to understand why she had to join them. "I-I know that sounds…absolutely insane…but I have been having these dreams – visions!"
"More crazy?" piped in Alistair, whispering in Elissa's ear. "I thought we were all full up." Dreams and visions from the Maker…right. Maybe it was something she ate, instead?
"Dreams do not always mean visions," added Morrigan, still sniggering to herself that the non-existent Maker would even speak with this Chantry wench. "Believe me, I should know."
"Look, miss," said Elissa, unsheathing her sword. "Leliana, thank you for your help back there, I'm sure that your heart was – is – in the right place. And you are right, I do need help in my cause…a great deal of help, but…I think you should stay here. I'm about to walk a dangerous path, it seems, and there's no place in it for a lay sister, even one who could fight as well as you do."
The group started again on their journey, each of them leaving her alone until only Elissa remained, and even then, the lady Cousland did not remain any longer. "Farewell, Leliana," Elissa said her goodbyes. "Stay here and live in peace."
And then she was gone.
Leliana felt heartbroken, as if she had failed the Maker even before she had even begun her task. An errant tear fell from her eye, followed by another. Her entire being started to shake, in pain, in grief, in anger at her failure. "Stupid girl," she chastised herself. "Stupid, stupid girl!" How could be so idiotic? To think that the Maker would speak to her through her dreams and tell her to help those walking away from her? Stupid girl. She wanted to cry out her frustration at the world, she felt the cry rise up from her throat, but this was not some wordless shout of hurt and anger. Leliana did not even realise what she had said before she had even said it.
"The bear and the dragon!"
The group stopped walking, turning toward the Orlesian sister behind them. "Excuse me?" asked Elissa, her brow bunched together in confusion and, perhaps…a small amount of recognition?
"The bear and the dragon," repeated Leliana, staring into Elissa's eyes, noticing the recognition etched in her brow. "You know what I'm talking about."
"Bears and dragons, apparently," replied Morrigan, her brow raised in annoyance before turning to Elissa. "This woman is clearly insane, surely you realise that."
"Maybe not…" said Elissa quietly, thoughtfully, her mind turning at the meaning of those words.
"You know what she's talking about?" asked Alistair.
"Heraldry," guessed the lady Cousland, who noticed the blank looks of those present and deciding to elaborate further. "Sigils. Symbols and motifs. They indicate the allegiance of the bearer. The twin Mabaris of Ferelden, for example, the tower of Redcliffe, the crescent moon and stars of Dragon's Peak, the laurel wreath of my family."
"The flaming sword of Andraste?" ventured Alistair, getting an idea of where she was getting at, though he wasn't exactly versed in the importance of symbols like one who was born and raised in nobility, like she was.
Elissa nodded, "for the Templar Order, yes."
"And the bear and the dragon?"
"The bear could represent Amaranthine, ruled by Arl Howe," answered Elissa, now on a roll. "The dragon she spoke of could possibly be that of Gwaren, Teyrn Loghain's land." She turned back to Leliana, her mind putting together the pieces of the puzzle that is this lay sister. "In your dreams, what becomes of the bear and the dragon?"
"You fight them," answered Leliana, remembering her dreams as if they had happened but a moment ago. She began to explain to the group, telling them a story of dogs, of the bear and the dragon, of their battles against Elissa and – strangely enough – Alistair. When she was done with her story, the group left her in order to confer amongst themselves.
"I still say she is mad," said Morrigan. "Let us be away from this place and be done with it. Every second we remain we risk another incident like the one in the tavern."
Alistair had another opinion. "Her plea seems wholehearted," he said, "and while she does seem a little…strange…she does have skill. I vote to let her come along."
"Alistair, she's an Archdemon short of a blight," pointed out Elissa. She did not mean for it to sound as cruel as it did, but she knew it to be true. All this talk of dreams and visions – even ones which may reference their enemies – surely she was crazy. She believes that Leliana believes that they are messages from the Maker, but that does not make it true.
"Yes, but she seems more 'Oooh! Pretty colours!' than 'Mua-ha-ha-ha! I'm Princess Stabbity! Stab! Kill! Kill!"
"You're making me want to stab-kill you," scowled Morrigan, "though I can settle for turning you into a frog and then squashing you underfoot."
"Ew! You'd do that?" Alistair mocked her, his hands pressed against his heart in faux-shock. "You are not a nice person, are you?"
"Enough!" Elissa cut short their argument, not having the patience for it today. She started to think, to weigh the pros and cons of adding the Orlesian to their not-so-merry band. Pro: she is a very competent fighter. Con: she's crazy. But then again, aren't they all for going up against Howe and Loghain, against some very crappy odds? Alistair and Elissa at least had revenge for a reason for doing so. Howe murdered Elissa's family. Loghain ignored the Grey Warden's most sacred laws, and in doing so, his men had slaughtered a man who was like a father to Alistair. What did Morrigan have? Her mother told her to go with them.
So why can't the Maker tell this lay sister the same?
She turned to look at Dogmeat, at those dark, chocolate-brown eyes so full of love and friendship and shining with intelligence. Elissa's faithful hound and best friend barked his agreement to the unasked question: 'what do you think, boy?'
"Alright, Leliana," said Elissa, turning toward the lay sister. "You're in."
"Perhaps your skull was cracked in the tavern," said Morrigan cattily. "I can think of no other reason for this."
End Chapter Nine.
Author's Note: Well…we're not dead yet. :P I hope you all had a happy Mayan Apocalypse! I certainly did, wink-wink. Actually, I tell a lie, not 'wink-wink', but I did have a cool December 21st nonetheless. Anyway, this chapter was surprisingly hard to write for me, I have no idea why. I thought the fight scenes in the previous chapter were easier (and believe me, they were an arsehole to write), ah well. But I did enjoy the Hawke sisters cameo and writing Morrigan in full-on bitch-mode, though. I guess that's something. And yes, Hawke's dog is also called Dogmeat. Why not? I imagine that I shall be naming any potential dogs in DA3 the same thing. :)
This will be the last update for 2012, I'm going to be taking a break for Christmas and the New Year, so…yeah.
I would like to thank Melysande and notthepenguins for choosing to favourite and/or follow this story. Thanks, I appreciate it!
Anyway, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, a Happy Kwanzaa, a Happy…Lord Xenu's Birthday? I don't know…
Happy Holidays, and I'll see you in 2013!
Jonathan.
