"We have been given the gift of freedom by our forbearers. Let us not squander it." –Anora Theirin nee Mac Tir, daughter of Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, widow of the late King Cailan Mac Tir, former Queen of Ferelden.

~ Cousland Castle, Highever, 13th Kingsway 9:21 Dragon ~

Lady Caitlyn, Anora had quickly realised, was a good sister, a protective sister.

She was also perceptive as it was obvious that she had picked up on the nature of the relationship between Cailan and her brother—which wasn't hard as Cailan didn't have a subtle bone in his body especially when it came to someone he liked—and was doing her level best to distract Anora from it.

It was rather sweet, if completely unnecessary, Anora mused as Alouette Mac Sullivan's slightly husky voice echoed through the room as she played her lute in the corner and Anora added another stitch to the Theirin Royal crest on the breast of one of Cailan's tunics—Cailan had been wearing tunics embroidered by Anora's own hands since she was ten.

Cailan and herself had grown up together, they were childhood friends, were best friends and that meant that Cailan rarely kept any secrets from her.

Sometimes Anora didn't think Cailan knew how to keep something from her since it was always Anora he shared his secrets with.

(Anora would one day read the letters that Cailan had been exchanging with the Empress Celene, she would take in the familiar tone, and she would almost laugh bitterly as she realised that Cailan did know how to keep secrets from her after all.)

This morning, Lady Caitlyn was more annoyed as Cailan had convinced Brannon to show him the small boat that he first learnt to sail with—a boat that could only take the two of them which Cailan no doubt knew and planned to take advantage of—and that practised pretty smile of hers had been rather tense when she turned to Anora that morning at breakfast after Cailan's announcement and asked her if she would like to join her and Lady Delilah Howe and do some embroidery.

They weren't alone in the room, no, they had Alouette Mac Sullivan as their personal mistral and Rosina Surana was here with Anora's new Lady-in-Waiting Erlina—Father was still glowering at the poor elf every time she opened her mouth and her Orlesian accent would remind him of just where she had come from.

(Father had almost thrown a fit when Maric had officially agreed to peace with the newly crowned Empress.)

The young Lady Kenna had escaped from the offer of embroidery by grabbing Thomas Howe and declaring that he owed her a sparring match when her sister had turned towards her with a considering look that at breakfast.

The speed the young noble girl had dragged the boy out with Lileas Surana quick on their heels was rather amusing and caused Fergus Cousland to smile his first real smile in the presence of Cailan.

Until the blonde idiot ruined it by tugging Brannon up from the table and wrapping his arm around the younger man's shoulders as he excitingly talked about the boat—Oriana had almost absently dug her nails into her betrothed's hand as she kept talking with Teyrna Eleanor about wedding plans making Fergus cut off his glower with a pained hiss.

Anora was fairly certain that the only reason that Fergus Cousland hadn't punched Cailan despite his clear desire to do so and to defend his younger brother from Cailan's interest was because Cailan was his Prince.

Anora glanced up from beneath her lashes and across to where Lady Delilah was admiring the embroidered quilt squares that Rosina had sown and then carefully embroidered lilies, birds and such on each square—she was going to turn it into a full quilt for her younger sister for Satinalia—and then glancing towards where Erlina was frowning as she made lace—Anora had already promised to add her best pieces of lace to her wedding-dress.

"You can relax, you know," Anora told Lady Caitlyn in an undertone making the younger woman glance up with shockingly rich blue eyes—Cousland blue, she had heard them be called as they were near the same shade of blue that of the background of the Cousland's heraldry.

"I am relaxed, Lady Anora," she smiled as she protested, a practised and pretty looking smile—as practised and as pretty as Anora's own smile when she was dealing with people outside of her father, Cailan and Erlina.

"No, you are not," Anora disagreed with some amusement, "I am well aware of the nature of the relationship between Cailan and Brannon."

Caitlyn stiffened slightly and almost stabbed her thumb with her needle—she was stitching a complex scene of a female warrior stabbing a dragon that Anora would bet was for her sister considering the flame coloured hair of the warrior—and her eyes widened as she turned towards her almost fully.

Anora smiled at her, practised and pretty with a glint of amusement in her more glacier blue eyes.

"You are?" Caitlyn asked, almost licking her rosy pink lips, but refraining from smudging the colour she had painted her lips with.

"Cailan doesn't keep secrets from me," Anora told her simply, confident in her assessment.

"And you are fine with that?" Caitlyn pressed, blue eyes narrowing on her, protective of her older brother still clear.

"I'd rather Cailan have dalliances with other men then worry about him siring a bastard before we wed," Anora answered candidly, "and we will wed, I will be his wife and the only woman that will ever share his bed, why should I worry about the men he takes to it in the mean time?"

Caitlyn looked at her for a moment, her lips pursed, before finally she nodded as she turned her attention back to her embroidery.

"If you like, I can keep you updated of your brother when he visits Denerim?" Anora offered as she turned back to the tunic in her hand, the unspoken 'for as long as his and Cailan's relationship lasts' were heard, and Caitlyn nodded after a moment.

"Yes, please," Caitlyn agreed before glancing up at her, "though I hope we can write about other things? As friends of course."

"Friends," Anora toyed that word in her mouth as she glanced up, she had never had a friend outside of Cailan or Erlina, but she could see herself as a friend of Caitlyn Cousland, "yes, I would like that."

~ Training Ground, Cousland Castle, Highever, 13th Kingsway 9:21 Dragon ~

Kenna aimed a swipe at Thomas' head with her wooden training sword—thinner and longer than what she normally wield when she trained with her twin short swords—and grinned as he stepped back and blocked it with his own training sword.

"Have you heard from your brother recently?" she asked as she blocked his stab towards her stomach, her left arm folded behind her back to stop her from lashing out with her empty hand.

"He's taken up doing archery in the Tournaments that Ser Rodophe takes him too," Thomas informed her, a slight frown as he blocked Kenna's under-strike to his legs and hopped back.

"I wonder if he'd beat Cait then," Kenna mused as she pressed forward with a thrust towards Thomas' stomach that he just blocked.

"Father isn't impressed," Thomas grunted as he pushed forward with his greater strength, Kenna twisting away and backing up with her sword ready as she watched him with gleaming dual sea coloured eyes.

"Why?" Kenna frowned slightly as they began to circle each other, careful not to cross her feet as she moved.

"Great-Grandfather," Thomas sighed deeply, dark eyes narrowed on his friend as he circled.

"Because he was an archer and went off to become a Warden?" Kenna frowned as she remembered what she had learnt about the Howes. "Really? He didn't even know the man."

Thomas snorted, humourless.

"Father can be rather petty," he informed her, eyes sharp as he waited for her to make a move.

"Like how he's keeping Nathaniel in the Free Marches because of the brawl at my Blessing?" Kenna asked dryly making Thomas snort in agreement. "It's been my whole life really, and he's still not allowing him back?"

"Mother's furious," Thomas confided, hand clenching around the hilt of sword. "She keeps saying nobody will trust him as their Arl if he's spent so much of his time in the Marches."

"What's your father said to that?" Kenna asked, eyeing him as she mentally went through where to strike.

"That apparently I'm going to be the Arl," Thomas grimaced as he admitted it and Kenna actually lowered her sword as she gaped at him in shock.

"But you'd be a terrible Arl," she protested, and Thomas nodded, not at all offended because she was right, he would make a terrible Arl.

"I think that's why he wants me to marry Caitlyn," he sighed as he allowed his own sword to lower.

"But you won't marry Cait," she said without any doubt, in a matter-a-fact tone, the same tone she had always used when discussing Caitlyn's future husband when someone tried to say she would marry someone, "she's going to marry someone that loves her and treats her like a Queen."

"I told Father that the only Cousland I would marry is you," he informed her with a hint of a grin, watching as shock ripple across her golden-tanned face before she snorted in amusement.

"I bet he was impressed by that," Kenna almost laughed as she tried to imagine Arl Howe's face.

"Oh, he was almost furious," Thomas grinned at her, "I told him if he tried to force the issue again, I'd elope with you the first chance we're able and run-away to become adventurers."

"I think that's the first and best marriage proposal I've ever had," Kenna grinned back at him, wide and happy with no attempt to hide it or soften it into something more lady-like.

"It'll probably always be the best," Thomas informed her almost smugly, "everyone else will expect you to be a proper noble wife while I know you'd prefer fighting dragons, hunting down slavers and exploring old ruins."

"So what?" Kenna asked as she moved so she could lean on her sword, "should I swoon and take you up on your offer? Since you're obviously the best I will ever have?"

"And have Fergus after me for proposing without asking him?" Thomas made a show of shuddering, "no thank you."

Kenna laughed with her head thrown back, her neck a golden arch as wild laughter burst from her lips, brilliant and bright, and free, and Thomas grinned back almost hopelessly.

Yes, if there was anyone in the world he would marry, it would be Kenna.

It was very easy to stop thinking, to fall completely into Cailan so that Bran didn't have to think about anything else.

It was easy to fall into their kisses—sweet light kisses that almost always swiftly turned hard and lustful.

It was easy to fall into Cailan's touches—possessive, claiming, lustful, tender, searching, seeking.

It was easy to fall into the taste—of his lips, of his skin, of his sweat, of his cum.

It was easy to think of nothing but him, in him, over him, kissing him, loving him, branding him with bruises and marking him with kisses.

It was him running away, Bran could admit to himself in the quiet moments, when they were spent and resting against each other, breathing calming and deepening.

Running away from Fergus, from Caitlyn, from Kenna.

Running away from what he was told, what Kenna had apparently foreseen, but he didn't know if he could stop running, he didn't know if he could stop drowning himself in Cailan.

Bran had started running the first night he had gone to Cailan and didn't know how to stop.

So, of course, Kenna would stop him.

~ Cousland Castle, Highever, 18th Kingsway 9:21 Dragon ~

Bran paused in the midst of shutting his door behind him and eyed the person sat crossed legged on his bed and twisting a half-finished carved bird in their golden hands.

"Fergus and Cait told you," Kenna said without looking up, without any doubt.

Bran finished closing the door but didn't know if he should approach his bed or not, so he ended up lingering by the door.

"Yes," Bran answered slowly as he watched his youngest sister.

She looked up then, looking older than her seven years, with hard dual-coloured eyes and her flame coloured hair braided and pinned around her head.

"Do you believe me?" she asked after a moment.

Bran paused, staring at her, staring into her eyes that were hard and haunted and much too old for her baby face.

Did he believe her, that was the question, wasn't it? Could he believe her?

He remembered the way Cait's voice trembled as she spoke.

"She'd scream and cry, choking on them whenever Mother or Father reached out for her. Sometimes I thought she'd end up coughing up blood from the force of her screams or stop breathing because of the tears choking her."

He wondered how it felt, to see his baby sister screaming her throat raw or choking on her own tears.

He remembered Fergus' voice, firm and serious when he spoke.

"You didn't see her, Bran, didn't see her when she spoke of what she seen. I did, Cait did, and we believe her, Maker damn it all, we believe her."

"I—" he stopped, he didn't know what to say.

"You and Cailan are having sex," Kenna informed him bluntly making him blush hotly and gape because the word 'sex' shouldn't fall from his sister's lips, "you'll fall in love with him, and he'll love you too, but in the end he'll break your heart and I will never forgive him for that."

Her voice was certain, firm, there was no doubt nor hesitation.

She kept her gaze locked with his, letting him see her certainty.

"One day, you will sacrifice the sea for us," she told him, her voice soft, but tone still certain, an odd weight as she spoke of the future. "One day, you will reach out for a poisoned chalice and drink from it willingly. One day, you will love again, he'll have sky-blue eyes and he'll stain his hands bloody uselessly because he's kind, because he has compassion."

"Kenna," his tongue felt thick in his mouth as he stared, he couldn't say anything.

"You believe, but you are afraid," Kenna seemed to muse, her eyes seeming to see right through him and down to his core. "You never do want to ask, you can't bring yourself too, can't bring yourself to know what's coming, and that will only make it hurt more in the end."

She let out a sigh then, deep and long, and disappointed, but not surprised.

"At least you believe me," she decided as she put the carving to the side and slid from his bed.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Thank you for believing me," she almost whispered into his middle, "but stop avoiding us by having sex with Cailan or Fergus may really forget he can't punch a prince."

Bran choked, almost laughed as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'll try," he promised her as she pulled back and looked up at him.

"Good," she said with a primness that reminded him of Cait, before she was leaving his room with almost cat-like slinkiness.

Bran leaned back against the once-again closed door and just breathed for a moment as he came to terms with things.

Author's Note; Hello! Here is a short gift you for! Now, I'm unsure if I should keep writing in this time or jump skip a few years for Kenna's Shadow to arrive.

Also are you're thoughts about Shadow? Any things you'd like to see?

Please let me know, and happy holidays!