Chapter 10: The Soldier and the Seawolf
"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.
...live in the question."
― Rainer Maria Rilke
A/N: According to the Wiki, in World of Thedas, Vol. 2, "The Soldier and the Seawolf" is the title of the ballad Bryce Cousland, the "Soldier" sang to a young Eleanor Mac Eanraig, the legendary "Seawolf", in an effort to persuade her to marry him. As far as I know, there are no actual verses of the ballad available to us, so what is here I made up, with my sincerest apologies to Wordsworth and Coleridge.
Highever Castle emerging in the distance as the carriage rounded the bend of the road was a sight that had always filled Elissa with awe. She felt pride gazing upon the Cousland banners whipping against the wind from every turret. She always anticipated that first glimpse when returning from an outing or voyage, but that morning her mind wandered. The carriage jostled and tossed them the entire trip. Her father had slept restlessly for most of the night and she and her mother had been staring out the window bleary-eyed since before dawn.
"I found it all rather…sad," Eleanor confided in a low voice. "Even your father agreed."
"What are you referring to?" Elissa stiffly stretched her back against the seat and grimaced.
"Eliane is not well," she revealed. "Didn't you see? Her countenance was so pale, so waxen."
"But is that really noteworthy?" Elissa whispered as her father puffed softly. "It is no secret that she enjoys to drink. Even her children make comments about it." She was well aware of the taint of petty gossip in her words.
"This is different," Eleanor remarked. "Her unsteadiness and confusion this visit were not the result of intemperance. If anything, I think she exhibited more moderation than I've ever seen before.
"Really, mother: we are picking on the woman for drinking less?" Elissa teased, resting her head against the window.
"I worry, that's all. I cannot help thinking what will befall that family when Eliane passes."
"Why do you say such a thing?" All she could summon in her mind was Nathaniel, so obliging and respectful of his family's pretenses. She wondered if the expectations heaped upon him would lighten or cause him to buckle under their weight after his mother's demise. It was hard for her to tell. She knew the elder Howes with that contradictory familiarity the young possessed of adults, young whose lives were directed by edicts and rules: their presence was always a looming, mysterious force.
"I did not like how Rendon fussed over the dignitaries from Denerim. He was too heavy-handed in his show of hospitality. It was embarrassing. I suspect these festivities were merely a pretext to amass favor and influence," she pondered.
"What are you talking about? It was merely Thomas' coming-of-age ceremony."
Eleanor smirked.
"So like your father," she stated quietly, turning to the man sleeping with his mouth agape beside her. "Howe wishes to expand his sphere of influence. That was never a secret."
"Whatever for?" Elissa yawned. "He's already Arl of Amaranthine."
"I don't know yet. Your father scoffs anytime I mention it, but I wouldn't put it past the man to still bear a grudge against us over lost land."
"Not this again!" Elissa rolled her eyes. Her father stirred, mumbling a few garbled words at them. "That was…ages ago! Before we were even born!"
"As were Orlais' invasions of Ferelden… and yet here we are, proud of sending them back over the border. Time is up against a formidable foe in the tenacity of memory." Her mother's brow furrowed. "Your father would maintain that fighting alongside each other makes them all brothers-in-arms, that it united all the Banns and Arls towards a common goal…It makes for a lovely story in theory, a pretty illusion all those involved enjoy sustaining for sentimental reasons, but without a shared enemy, without a greater cause...Let us say that peacetime brings with it unique challenges," Eleanor concluded. "Eliane holds the purse strings in that marriage and she has always tempered Rendon's ambitions, limited his reach. I hope we do not discover how Rendon would act without his Lady to pull back his reins. This occasion…To me it was like witnessing an eager player painstakingly position all his pieces on the board in growing expectation of a game about to begin."
"Perhaps it is you who grows restless in times of peace?" Elissa wondered impatiently. "I really did not notice anything aberrant about either one's behavior."
Eleanor eased back against her seat, turning her neck from side to side. She offered her a tired grin.
"Perhaps. I hope you are right. I cannot help being the way I am. I could always sense bad weather long before it crossed my path…" she stated, staring past the window. Eleanor was prone to those melancholy moods, Bryce had once disclosed to her, ever since she had given up her command at sea.
"I do hope the whole affair wasn't an insufferable bore for you, my dear," her mother began. There was something about her tone, though, that had her on her guard. "How did you find the Howe heirs this time?" she asked shrewdly, her eyes turning to her interestedly.
"I hardly saw Delilah."
"Yes…" her mother concurred. "She's very involved with ingratiating herself to Denerim's aristocracy."
"And I found Thomas quite grown," Elissa pointed out.
"Did you?" she asked, curious. "I always thought he took after the Howes rather than the Brylands: Thomas has his father's build and profile, unlike Delilah and Nathaniel…Sometimes when I look at Nathaniel, it's like I am peering at a young, dark-haired Leonas Bryland."
"I don't think I ever met—"
"You haven't," Eleanor interrupted. "Rendon and he haven't spoken in years."
"Anyway, Thomas has grown… but he's ever obnoxious. Still."
Eleanor flashed her a smile. They rode in silence for a few moments, Elissa feeling relieved at being alone with her thoughts once more. But her reprieve was short-lived.
"And what did you think of Nathaniel?" her mother asked suggestively.
Careful, she told herself. How did acting naturally work again?
"He seemed aloof at first…But we talked at length during our outing," she stated sanguinely, suppressing memories of the afternoon spent in the hayloft. "He seems to be doing well. Did you know he has learned how to ride like a Chevalier just to irk his father?" she added in attempt to change the conversation.
"Has he now?"
"Yes! I can only imagine his father's annoyance." She grinned. "And he told me it is likely he will be sent to the Marches to be squired."
"The Marches? A first-born? How odd," Eleanor whispered, intrigued.
"You know Nathaniel has no interest in running the arling," Elissa added. "That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone."
"No, no…That he hasn't the temperament to play the role of landed gentleman doesn't astonish me one bit…And I have fine furniture with deep nicks and scratches acquired during your past sieges and raids in my parlor to attest to his true tendencies," she reminisced with slight amusement. "What surprises me is that the Howes seem quite certain that Nathaniel will be engaged to Lady Oleanna any day now."
Elissa's mouth went dry.
"Did he not say anything to you about the matter?"Eleanor inquired.
"Only that his parents seemed quite keen on it," she replied. Calm down, she urged herself. This is nothing you didn't already know.
"So he said nothing of his intent?" Eleanor pressed on.
"No," Elissa added, with a shrug.
"And…does the prospect distress you?" she asked suddenly.
"Why should it?" Elissa panicked.
At that, her mother smirked.
"Ah, dearest…Don't think I didn't catch those wolfish glances…"
"Oh, please!" she protested too vehemently. "Nathaniel is my childhood friend. He most certainly was not doing anything of the sort!"
Eleanor laughed lightly, an infuriating, knowing laughter and Elissa's stomach sank.
"Who said I was talking about him? I was talking about you!"
Elissa turned her head away, her cheeks stinging. She ignored her mother's appraising glances.
"What now? Are you cross at me? I am your mother, after all—You can confide in me about…"
"Nathaniel and I are merely friends." She spoke calmly despite the pounding in her chest.
"As were your father and I once…" she teased.
Elissa shook her head dismissively and rested her cheek over her fist, her gaze drifting over endless tree trunks filing past the window as they rode on the dreary road. Eleanor's smile gradually faded.
"Dearest, be careful," she stated more soothingly. "I wouldn't like to see you hurt…or inadvertently embroiled in the Howes' machinations for power."
"I already told you: Nathaniel is an old friend. And that is all!" she retorted sharply and warningly. It was an empty threat; if her mother were to push harder…
Instead, she stared at her silently before nodding.
"Yes. I know. I just want you to be careful. Rendon thought nothing of marrying for money and influence. I can only wonder about the values he's instilled in his children."
"I've told you already: I am not inclined to pursue such matters. If you are concerned about my making an ill-advised match—or any match for that matter, do not worry," she huffed, irritated and growing agitated in the confines of that small carriage that knocked them about tiresomely, without end in sight, it seemed. Suddenly what she had so often stated without flinching sounded untruthful and deceptive.
"I'm just being guarded…I suppose I am projecting my own dislike of Rendon…You know I would love for you to reconsider your stance on the whole topic of matrimony," her mother began in a more lighthearted tone. "Although I remember I, too, once swore I would never give up my seafaring life to settle down."
"But I was irresistible," her father quipped, surprising them as he smacked his lips, his eyes still closed. "Handsome, dashing…downright heroic…and what a great singing voice…" he mused sleepily as her mother arched an eyebrow.
"And the Mistral sailed boldly and ever north,
O'er glimmering waves of green and blue,
To honor the Seawolf the Soldier bravely stepped forth,
—'Whither thou goest, my Lady, I shall follow you," he intoned liltingly. "How could you say no to that?" he declared, his eyes opening at last, a mischievous grin on his lips. "She said yes to my proposal before I even finished the third verse!" he stated proudly to Elissa, his story one he had regaled her with so many times before.
"I was desperate to get you to stop singing through the next seven verses!" Eleanor feigned indignation. He chuckled and twined his fingers between hers before raising her hand to his lips.
"Mo leannan," he said tenderly in the dialect from her mother's native Storm Coast, kissing the back of her hand. Her expression softened.
"Mo ghràdh," she replied gently, squeezing his hand.
Elissa stared at her parents for a moment and was overcome with swirling emotions—a longing tinged with envy, a desire filled with hopelessness.
Will Nathaniel and I ever have such a story to tell? She wished someday they could sit like that, in such an accustomed togetherness, all uncertainties and doubts behind them.
She crossed her arms and stared out the window sullenly, even as her father tried to lighten the mood by jokingly chastising her mother.
"Elissa doesn't have to marry anyone. I, in the powers vested in me as Teyrn decree she may remain her father's darling daughter forever—a daughter trained to be a ruthless warrior instilling fear in the hearts of soldiers, it is true—but, first and foremost, always her father's Pup," he declared mirthfully.
"You spoil her too much," Eleanor shook her head, also seeking the view outside. "She must make her way in this world. We won't be around forever."
Her father had winked at her, his smile warm as he beheld his younger child.
"Oh, she will, Eleanor. She will do it grandly, too. For she is the Soldier and the Seawolf's daughter!" he stated animatedly. He leaned in towards them charmingly. "Do you two fine ladies know that lovely ballad?" he threatened.
"Maker, Bryce! Don't you dare! We've nowhere to flee away in this carriage!" Eleanor complained gamely, attempting to hold back her laughter as she gave his arm a good-natured slap.
And when Elissa finally smiled broadly, disarmed by her father's contagious cheer, he launched into a spirited rendition of the old ballad.
A/N: Mac Eanraig is a seriously solid Scottish name (Eanraig is the Scottish form of 'Henry'), so I took the terms of endearment here from Scottish Gaelic. Mo leannan means "My sweetheart/beloved" and Mo ghràdh means "My love/dear".