I am Aedan of Highever!

by Powerslammer

Aedan Cousland has only ever lived to serve Ferelden. His love of country is matched only by his foul temper. When the Fifth Blight occurs, he is scarred by deception and loss. Motivated by patriotism and fueled by vengeance, there is nothing he won't do until he saves his homeland from the darkspawn and wreaks horrible vengeance upon all those who betrayed him and the kingdom.

2. Highever Origins: Part 2

~Highever Origins: Part II~

It had been a week since the Cousland Family's visit to Denerim for the Landsmeet, and now they were back in Highever. Despite Teyrn Loghain's objections, the lords and ladies of the Landsmeet approved Teyrn Bryce's proposal of opening trade negotiations and an embassy with Orlais. This coming spring, Bryce would be the first Fereldan lord to visit the Orlesian Empire as a representative of their sovereign kingdom. There was much opposition against this decision, but Bryce was determined to help cement peace between their countries and bring prosperity to his homeland; he was up to the task. For now, Bryce would push aside the pressures and anxieties of being an ambassador, and spend his remaining months on his native soil with his family.

It was Sunday once again, and the castle's Chantry was once again full with the faithful who had gathered to attend mass. Everyone here was eagerly waiting to hear Aedan's lovely singing voice again, and after that fiasco that happened in Denerim with Vaughan Kendalls, Bryce welcomed the opportunity to see his younger son as he truly was.

"Let us end today's sermon by giving praise to the Maker and the Holy Andraste by welcoming Highever Castle's favorite altar boy to sing the Canticles of Exaltations." Mother Mallol turned towards Aedan with a welcoming smile. Administering the Chant to such a gifted child always filled her heart with joy.

Aedan was once again dressed in his altar boy robes, wearing a bright smile on his face. However, despite his smile, he couldn't bring himself to step forward to the altar.

Eleanor couldn't help but laugh on the inside. It would seem her little Aedan was still bashful when it came to singing with that lovely voice of his in front of a crowd. But after a few moments of Aedan just standing there like he was stuck to the floor, Eleanor began to wonder if something was wrong. Aedan had always been a shy child, but never like this.

The smile on Aedan's face faded into an uncomfortable grimace. He looked over to the mass of people in the Chantry, all of them still applauding and giving words of praise and encouragement for singing the Chant so beautifully. But on the inside, Aedan was screaming. Instead of feeling any kind of pride that everyone attending this mass wanted to hear him sing, all Aedan could feel was a great pool of resentment welling up in his stomach. And the thought of uttering another word from the Chant of Light only served to make him feel even sicker.

"Mother, Father...I'm sorry." Unable to stand it any longer, Aedan turned away from the congregation and ran out of the Chantry as fast as he could, unable to show his face to his parents.

Aedan's parents, his brother and Mother Mallol were confounded. What could have possibly upset him so badly? He had done nothing wrong. Excusing themselves from the Chantry, Bryce, Eleanor and Fergus quickly followed after Aedan. They made their way to his bedchamber and found that his door was closed behind him.

Bryce knocked on Aedan's door, then slowly opened it just a crack. "Aedan? May we come in?"

"It's your castle, Father. Take the door off the hinges if you want." Aedan replied from inside.

The three of them entered Aedan's room and saw him sitting next to his window, looking down at the Chantry with a rather stern look on his face. Eleanor had never seen him look so serious before. He was looking down at the Chantry like he was mad at it.

Eleanor grabbed a nearby chair and sat herself next to him. "My dear boy, why are you so upset? Is something wrong?"

"You gave everyone quite a shock their, Pup. Is there anything you want to talk about?" Bryce inquired, sharing his wife's concern.

Aedan just sat there staring at the rain falling outside his window, trying to avoid his parents' gaze.

"Come, now, little brother, don't be like that." Fergus urged his sibling gently. "You got Mother and Father both here and they're concerned about you. I'm here, too. You know there's no secrets with family. Whatever's wrong, I'm sure we can work it out. Is it girl trouble? Cause I can give you some tips if you like."

Aedan sat there quietly staring down at the book in front of him. He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather his courage, but still couldn't face his family. "I...I'm sorry, but I, I just can't do this anymore."

"Do what, Aedan? Sing?" Bryce asked. "Because if you're uncomfortable speaking in front of large crowds, I promise you that's a common fear."

"No, Father, I couldn't do this!" Aedan stressed, holding his Chantry robe and throwing it away from him. "Wearing this robe, saying words and singing songs that mean nothing to me. Praising a being that I don't believe in. I can't take this anymore!"

"Aedan, what are you saying?" Eleanor asked deeply unsettled.

"Mother, Father, I make no apologies for saying this, but I do not believe in the Maker." Aedan finally confessed summoning all his courage. "If nothing else, I deny the Maker!"

To say that every member of Aedan's family was stunned by his words would have been a woeful understatement. The shock on his family's face could have shattered every mirror in Val Royeaux. Aedan's mother looked particularly upset by her son's declaration.

Eleanor couldn't believe what she just heard. She never thought to hear something like that, much less from the mouth of her youngest son. Just trying to comprehend it made her feel dizzy. "How can you deny the Maker? His love is eternal and grants it to all his children."

"Says who?" Aedan challenged. "I've read every book on history in this castle's library, looked into every religious text the Chantry does and does not allow, and I've found no evidence that supports that belief. All these ancient cultures that predate Andrastianism, and there is no mention of a single great creator who formed the world. If the Maker is truly the timeless creator of all existence, why didn't he ever show Himself to the elves, the dwarves, or even the Imperium?"

"Aedan, you're being unreasonable. The elves, dwarves and the Imperium all worshipped false gods and idols, they were blinded to the Maker." Bryce tried to explain to council his son.

"A very convenient excuse that the Chantry uses all too often to make up for what they can't explain." The young boy rebutted, refusing to back down from his argument, even before his parents. "The only shred of proof that exists is the word of Andraste, a barbarian woman from a dark era who failed to bring down the empire she fought against. For all we know, Andraste was an insane madwoman and the Maker was just a voice in her head!"

"Aedan, that is enough! I will not hear any more of this blasphemy, not in my home." Eleanor scolded harshly.

Bryce gently placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, gesturing her to calm down. "Eleanor, I think the boy deserves a chance to explain himself. Just what is it that has you so angry, Aedan? And what does the Maker have to do with it?"

Aedan strode over to his window and looked down on the people who were now leaving now that mass was over. "I go to the Chantry and hear all those people down there talk and sing about how wonderful the Maker is. How his love is unending, and that by bringing the Chant of Light to all corners of the world will call the Maker back, then I read all these history books, and all I see is an unending list of hypocrisy that makes me sick to my stomach."

"Hypocrisy? What are you talking about?" Fergus asked.

"You say the Maker has love for everyone, but that's not true, not according to the Chantry. Kordillius Drakon I of Orlais founded the Chantry after putting every other religious sect and denomination to the sword, even the ones that worshipped the Maker but didn't follow the Chantry's dogma. Then the Chantry declares an Exalted March on the Dales and forced the elves to either give up their identity and live in poverty, or the Dalish live like vagrants with no home. I've always seen you treat elves honorably and fairly, but the Chantry treats them like they're a mistake to be corrected."

Bryce paused a moment, trying to find a proper response, but it was difficult. It was true that he had always tried to act as a just lord to all people in his teyrnir, which included the elves. However, it was also true that the Chantry had a long history of being less honorable than he was towards the elven people. "Aedan, you have to understand that those were dark, trying times. And that there are reports that it was the elves who first started the war that began the Exalted March."

"Yeah? That was the same sorry excuse the Orlesian Empire used when they conquered our homeland, and stole our rights and beliefs from us. Why didn't the Divine stop the Chevaliers from raping women, burning our lands and murdering our people? Everything the Orlesian Emperors and their Chevaliers did, every crime and humiliation, was done with the Chantry's Blessing!"

Both the teyrn and his wife were left silent by Aedan's words; that struck them both deeply. Both of them were veterans of the Fereldan War of Independence, they had seen firsthand the Orlesian Chevaliers penchant for cruelty and humiliation. It was something both of them had worked very hard to put behind them. Yet, even during the war, neither Bryce nor Eleanor had considered how the Blessed Age was named after the birth of the Orlesian emperor who conquered their homeland, and how the Chantry did nothing while their people suffered.

"Aedan, what the Orlesians did during the occupation were terrible and vile, things that no true Maker-fearing man would ever think of doing, but you cannot hold the Chantry or the Maker responsible for the actions of mortal men. The Chantry is not some taskmaster that whips people back into line when they're misbehaving."

"Tell that to the mages. Mages live like prisoners, condemned and vilified by the Chantry that imprisons them. If mages don't pass their Harrowing, they're killed. If any mage escapes the Circle, or refuses to live in one, they are killed. And if mages end up having children of their own, the Chantry takes them away, never letting the parents see their children again. It's disgusting!" Aedan looked to his father with an intense look in his eyes. "You're the one who taught me that freedom is the right of all people. Then all people, men, elves, dwarves and mages, they should have the right to choose their destiny, yet the Chantry does everything it can to strip the rights and beliefs away from other in place of their own. How can I support a religion that does something so terrible."

This came as a great shock to Eleanor, one she could scarcely believe. Aedan had always been such a quiet and shy lad, more interested in reading books in the library than anything else. Brother Aldous once told them that they might need to get a new library because Aedan had devoured every book that he got his hands on. Many of the books he had been reading were about the Chantry, its history and its actions. All this time, Eleanor believed Aedan was studying the Chantry because she thought he wanted to join its ranks. Now she realized that in her son's studies to better understand the Chantry, Aedan had learned to hate it.

Bryce and Eleanor remained quiet, taking a moment to consider their son's words and logic. Given everything Bryce had taught both his sons, and considering the history of the Chantry, which was not without faults, it was difficult to deny that Aedan had just cause to be less than pleased with the center of Andrastian faith.

"You make a compelling argument, Aedan, I do not deny that. I would be a fool and a liar to say that your reasons are unjustified." Bryce conceded. "However, that explains every reason you have to hate the Chantry. What possible reason could you have for denying the Maker? I cannot imagine something so damning from anyone, let alone my own son. Please, help us understand why."

Aedan turned his gaze away from his parent, ashamed at the grief he was causing them, so he gave them his reasons. "Because...because I look at you and Mother, and as far as I'm concerned, you're both greater than the Maker. You say the Maker is supposed to be all about love and forgiveness, but all I've seen is judgment and punishment. He demands everything and gives nothing."

"That's because we mortal must earn back the Maker's forgiveness, Aedan. Only then will the Maker return to us." Eleanor insisted.

"That's not good enough for me, Mother! How is a child supposed to earn their parent's love? The Maker never showed Himself to anyone, never taught them, but demands everything for His own glory and casts all souls who don't into the Abyss. What kind of father abandons his children twice? What kind of husband leaves his wife to be killed by her enemies? If that's the kind of god the Chantry wants to venerate, I want nothing to do with Him."

Bryce, Eleanor, and Fergus all said nothing, they just looked at Aedan as he stared at the floor in shame. He couldn't bring himself to look at his own family for fear of what his decision would bring from them.

"I'm sorry, but this is I can't put my faith in this Maker, He hasn't earned it." Aedan said with regret. "I know this disappoints you, and if you hate me for it..."

"Aedan, stop right now." Eleanor said sternly with hurt in her voice. Aedan quickly obeyed. The teyrna walked up to her son and gently placed her hand on his cheek, looking at him softly before hugging him closely to her. "Oh, Aedan, how could you think such a thing? You're my baby, I could never hate you."

Aedan held his mother closely and softly began weeping tears of relief. He was so afraid that once he made his atheism known, that his faithful parents would hate him and cast him out. Now his fear were laid to rest.

Bryce joined his wife and comforted his son. "Your mother's right, Aedan. You have the right to believe what you want, follow the path you choose. I...I don't agree with your decision, but I do respect it. Perhaps, one day, you might be proven wrong about the Maker. Until that time, you're still my son, and I will always be proud of you."

Aedan lifted his head and looked to his older brother. "What about you, Fergus?"

Fergus just shrugged and looked at his younger brother curiously. "No matter what you believe, you're still my little brother. But what are you going to believe in if not the Maker?"

"I still have my family, and I still have Ferelden." Aedan answered.

"Damned right you do, brother." Fergus smiled and tussled his brother's hair playfully.

The Couland's gathered around their youngest child, and hugged him together, and Aedan felt a mountainous weight fly off his shoulders. He was so scared that by revealing the truth about his feelings on the Maker, his family would reject him. Instead, they accepted him and what he believed, even if they didn't agree with it. What truer sign of a parent's love than this? Further proof to Aedan that his parents were truly greater than the Maker.

A Week Later...

Teyrn Bryce sat alone in the main hall of his castle next to the fire, looking over his least favorite part of being a politician: the paperwork. Petitions, tax overviews, reports about petitions and tax overviews. It was so boring that it made the Landsmeet look welcoming. However, as tedious as this part of his job was, it was the only thing he could do right now to keep his mind occupied. Things were going to be very for him soon, and on top of that, Bryce was expecting someone.

Suddenly the teyrn heard something outside, something akin to the sound of soldiers marching in formation, but it also sounded like it was only one set of boots hitting the ground. Bryce knew only one person in all of Ferelden who could possibly have footfalls like that. The doors to the main hall flung open with the force of a battering ram, with the man Bryce had been expecting standing in the doorway with a giant grin on his face.

"Haw-haw! Bryce, me old comrade! It's been too long!" the man laughed with a voice that boomed like thunder.

The man was probably the most colossal human in the entire kingdom of Ferelden, perhaps the whole South of Thedas. He was a massive mountain of muscle with shoulders that could put even a pair of oxen to shame, wearing thick furs and splintmail, and was so tall he could make Qunari look small. His face was hidden behind a large, shaggy black beard that even dwarf would be envious of, and trailing over his left eye was a long scar from that revealed someone once tried to kill him by stabbing him in the face with a sword. That particular Orlesian lived just long enough to regret that.

"Argyle. So pleased you could accept my invitation." Bryce greeted his old friend with open arms. Even though he knew this man for over thirty years, Bryce was still amazed out how immense Argyle was.

"Well, when the Teyrn of Highever sends me a letter askin' for help with his own bairne, I ask meself, 'Now what kinda touble coulda lad o' ten be doin' that someone like Bryce Cousland can't handle?' So, tell me, Bryce, me old friend, whut seems t'be tha trouble wit yer boy?" The towering human asked with a booming voice with a thick, unrefined brogue.

"Well, Argyle, Aedan is a...very headstrong lad, to say the very least. He has strong convictions for a boy his age. He knows what he believes in, and he's not afraid to stand for those beliefs. It's enough to make any father proud." Bryce explained proudly, then came the part where he had to explain what was wrong. "However, he has...well let's just say he has a bit of a temper, and it's starting to worry his mother and I."

"Well, he is getting to be at tha' age, Bryce. I'm sure them young hormones are just kicking in early for yer boy." Argyle reasoned. "When ye and I were tha' young, we were learning how to kill Chevaliers, and having foreigners occupy our lands didn't exactly improve our disposition."

Bryce stopped dead in his tracks. "Last month, I took him to Denerim for the Landsmeet, and being a restless child, he and his friend Roderick snuck off to go exploring the city on their own. Two hours later, I learn that my son had been arrested by the city watch for brutally assaulting the Arl of Denerim's son."

"Oh." Argyle uttered, equally surprised and impressed. "Well, that is nae normal fer a boy his age at all. What'd the Arl's son do ta piss yer cub off?"

"Well, it turns out Arl Urien's son, Vaughn, is quite fond of being a bully to the city's elves." Bryce explained. "Aedan saw Vaughn and his friends assaulting an elven girl and started ripping her cloths off. So, Aedan did what any decent person would do, and beat the daylights out of that spoiled brat and his friends, all of them bigger than him, with a rock."

Argyle couldn't help but notice how the worry in the teyrn's voice was quickly replaced with pride. "Well, if ye're so proud of yer boy fer what he done, what do ya need me fer?"

Bryce looked up to the towering giant with a deathly serious concern in his eyes. "Because, Argyle, the only thing that saved Aedan's life was the fact that he happened to be my son. Anyone else, and Arl Urien would have had them imprisoned or executed for doing the honorable thing. Aedan thinks far too much with his heart, wearing his emotions on his sleeve, then acting on them. If that is how he wishes to live his life, then so be it. But I want my son strong enough to face the consequences of his actions if this is how he chooses to live. You, Argyle, were one of the fiercest and strongest of Ash Warriors during the Occupation. You kept fighting at the battle of White River even after a Chevalier stabbed you in the eye with his sword. I want you to teach that strength to my son."

Argyle thought for a moment, and gave the Teyrn his answer. "Alright, Bryce. I'll do it. Ye saved m'life at White River, s'only fair that I teach yer son how to stay alive. So, what do ya say we go see what yer boy is made of, huh?"

The Teyrn and the Ash Warrior made their way to the training courtyard. Aedan was already there, with his mabari pup, Dane, watching him excitedly. He hacking away at a practice dummy with a wooden sword like it had offended him. There was a lot of fervor in his swing, but Argyle could see that there was much improvement to be had. The boy was all passion and no discipline. To see him whacking at that straw dummy, Argyle wouldn't have thought this was the same boy Bryce was just talking about. Even for a ten-year-old, the boy was small for his age, as well as skinny as a pine needle. It looked like Argyle would have his work cut out for him.

"Aedan, come over here please." Bryce called to his son. The boy did as his father beckoned. His eyes widened like saucers and his jaw dropped at seeing the immense size of the bearded behemoth standing next to his father. "Aedan, it's rude to stare and leave your mouth hanging open." Aedan quickly closed his mouth and did his best not stare, but it was far too difficult. "This is Argyle, an old comrade of mine from the war. He will be the new master-at-arms here at Castle Highever. And he's going to teach you everything you'll need to know about combat."

"What the hell do you eat?! Smaller people?!" Aedan blurted loudly, completely disregarding his manners.

An amused chuckle rumbled in the giant man-mountain's chest "Oh, I like him already, Lord Teyrn. If he was growing up back in me people's Hold in the Frostbacks, we'da had fun tossin' him to our Hold Beast."

Aedan's eyes went wide with amazement. This man was an Avvar? He'd never seen one before.

"You wanted to learn how to be a protector of our country, Aedan. Argyle is here to show you how. Now, listen well, Pup." Bryce leaned towards his son with a gentle but serious look in his eyes. "If this is truly the path you wish to take, I want you to be as prepared as possible. I know from personal experience that the life of a warrior is not an easy one. But if this is truly the path you wish to take, Argyle will show you how to walk it."

Aedan looked back at his father with unflinching determination and nodded to him. "Yes, Father. This is what I want."

"So be it." Bryce sighed with a mix of acknowledgement and disappointment before turning back to his old friend. "I'll leave him to you, Argyle. Do what you've come to do." Then he turned and left his son and new master at arm to acquaint themselves with each other.

As soon as the Teyrn was gone, Argyle looked down at Aedan with an amused but obviously unimpressed look on his face. "Well, now the yer daddy's nae here, I gotta admit, you're sorta of a runt, kid. From the way yer da spoke of ye, I was expectin' somethin'...bigger, scarier."

Aedan returned Argyle's unimpressed look with a sneer on his face. "Yeah? Well, I have to admit that your body odor smells worse than the castle's kennels on a hot summer day, and by the looks of your face, your daddy must have been the ugliest creature in all of Ferelden and decided to steal himself a night with a pig because he couldn't even get a blind prostitute to suffer his needs."

Argyle said nothing. Just kept staring at the diminutive kid like he was stunned. Then he grabbed Aedan by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the courtyard like he was a ragdoll. Aedan screamed as he flew through the air and straw dummies he was hitting earlier broke his fall. He quickly got back up with his wooden sword to wildly attack the giant. Argyle grabbed Aedan's fake weapon and snapped it in his hand like a twig before shoving the boy to the ground and planted his foot on his chest. Aedan struggled to get the massive boot off him, but it was useless, Argyle was too strong and heavy.

Dane growled furiously at the man who was attacking his master, but Argyle just growled like an angry bear right back at the young pup. Dane was so scared by the monstrous human, he whimpered and lowered his head to the ground, which was good because Argyle actually didn't like kicking small animals.

"That, little lordling, was yer first lesson: talk shit, get hit." Argyle looked down on the boy under his heel and started putting more pressure on his chest. "If ye're gonna be talkin' smack ta other folks, ye'd better be ready ta back it up, or this is gonna happen ta ya ev'ry time. Now, yer daddy's hired me ta make sure ye know how to stay alive when that big mouth and bad temper of yers gets ye into trouble. As it is, ye can't even hold a candle ta me, much less a great warrior like Loghain Mac Tir. So, if ye want to become a real soldier of Ferelden, then ye'd better wise up and start ta learnin' quickly. Yer life starts right now!"

Aedan quickly learned that the path to becoming a great warrior was far more arduous than he imagined. And Argyle's training was especially brutal. The days of physical training went from morning until night, without reprieve, rest or mercy. If there was ever a man in Ferelden who could absolutely shatter anyone's dreams of becoming a warrior, Argyle was just the man to do that. Yet through it all, Aedan never gave up, never asked for respite. He just got back and demanded more. There's no way he'd let this shaved kodiak get the better of him. A Cousland never backs down.

"Push! Push, ya little runt!" Argyle shouted viciously as he pressed his foot on Aedan's back while he tried to do push-ups on his knuckles. Aedan's knuckles bled on the ground, and he could feel his fists starting to crack from all the strain, but he would not cry, he would not submit. "Push! Push, harder! Give honor to yer Alamarii heritage! The enemy will never show ye mercy, ye must be merciless in kind! No pain, no fear, no mercy!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan screamed over and over again like a prayer. Despite his determination, tears of pain streamed down Aedan's face against his will as his knuckles bled, his bones cracked, and the fresh, deep bruises on his body still stung horribly.

"What, are those tears I see? Ya feckin' little girl!" Argyle mocked mercilessly. "The only thing that should ever wet yer face is the blood of yer enemies! Ye think because ye're doing a few push-ups and got a few bruises in sparring ye know what pain is? Ha! Ye don't know shit, ye little runt! Ye're a Cousland, born into wealth and power on a fancy bed with a silver spoon in yer mouth, ye don't know suffering! The Dalish, Chasind, and Avvar, the children of these barbarians all learn to hunt and kill the instant they learn to walk, and dwarven soldiers train from childhood. Ye think ye can stack up to these warriors with yer soft hands and weak arms? Don't make me laugh! Ye got some catchin' up to do if ye ever want to be a great warrior. Now, stop that cryin' and push!"

"No pain! No fear! No mercy!" Aedan yelled his throat hoarse, and kept on pushing. He would never give in. If the children of the so-called barbarians can learn to endure such pain, so can he.

"The more ya bleed in the trainin' yard, the less ye'll bleed in the battlefield. Only when ye can endure pain can ye inflict pain to yer enemies."

~XoXoXo~

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and Argyle's brutal tutelage of Aedan continued. There were times when Eleanor couldn't bare to see her son being treated so harshly and practically begged her son to take it easy, but Aedan and Bryce assured the teyrna that this is what he wanted. Aedan wanted to become a warrior for his country, and no warrior who ever became great got that way by quitting when things got tough. Now that Aedan finally had a personal trainer to help him achieve his dream of becoming a soldier for his nation, there was no way he could ever back out now. Otherwise, their mother would probably have Aedan studying poetry or something just as useless.

It had been three months now since Argyle had become Highever Castle's master-at-arms, and very soon Teyrn Bryce would leave on his diplomatic mission to Orlais. Three months of intense physical training, but still Aedan had yet to learn anything about martial arts or battle. He hadn't even been allowed to touch a weapon yet. What was the point of all this intense training if he wasn't even going to learn the tools of the trade of any warrior? Aedan's disappointment finally ended and he felt his heart race on the day Argyle finally decided he was ready for basic weapon instruction.

"Today, we begin training in the weapon style ye wish ta master. The weapon ye choose will become part'a who ye are and the style ye will use against yer enemies. All styles are different, with its own strengths and weaknesses, so choose wisely. The right weapon can mean victory or defeat. If and when war comes to this country again, which weapon will you go to war with?"

Aedan looked at the weapons before him, carefully considering which discipline he would commit himself to. Didn't even take a minute until he chose the weapon that would define his fighting style.

"Ah, the battle-axe. Very good." Argyle approved. "Simple, yet devastatin' and to the point."

"The weapon of a barbarian. The most fitting tool for a Fereldan warrior." Aedan smiled.

"Remember this, Aedan, the proper weapon is only half the arsenal necessary for any great warrior." Argyle instructed. "If ye truly wish to dominate yer opponents and drive the enemy before ye, ye must learn to split their focus before they even fight ye."

"And how do I accomplish that?" Aedan asked curiously.

Argyle laughed at the many ways such a thing could be done. "Insult them, mock them, make them angry and they'll lose focus and make a mistake. But if ye really want to break their spirit, inspire fear, make them regret ever laying eyes on ye, and ye will own them. For me, that's always been easy because of me size and strength."

"Well, I'm not a freak of nature like you, Argyle. How can I inspire such fear into anyone?"

"Ye're going to have to discover that for yerself, Aedan, if ye're to become the warrior you want to be." Argyle answered. "I have found that what frightens most people is either being burned alive, or eaten alive. If ye can put that fear into yer enemies, then there won't be a soul alive that can challenge ye."

Aedan looked at the axe in his hand, contemplating on his teacher's words. To inspire fear in his enemies, break their will. "I will find a way, Argyle. Many people revere knights. Everyone fears barbarians. And if it means I can defend my country, I'll become the bloodiest savage this country has ever seen."

~XoXoXo~

It was a mid-spring day in Highever, and was a great deal bustle going on at the castle right now. In fact, it was practically pandemonium with how busy everything was. Even Roderick Gilmore was being put through his paces today. As a squire for the Cousland Family, he couldn't be slacking off on a day like this one. The best he and the other squires could do was make themselves available to help make all the other tasks easier for everyone else. Once he was done with one assignment, it was instantly to another. Right now, Roderick was helping the soldiers make sure their uniforms and ceremonial dress was ready for inspection by the ranking officers. If even one of them had their uniform not up to standard or they weren't standing in proper formation, then their whole squad would be running drills in full gear for a week.

But if the guards thought their officers were being strict with them, they had nothing compared to the servants and Old Nan. The head house servant may have been getting on in her years, but she was still as sharp, merciless and unbending as a dwarven axe. Her strict discipline and commanding voice could teach any of the officers here a thing or too about how to command respect. As the head servant of the Cousland Family, she refused to accept anything less than absolute perfection on a day like this. On days like this, Old Nan was especially ornery, and everyone had to walk on egg shells around her.

Roderick swallowed hard and tentatively approached the head maid. "Um. Excuse me, ma'am?"

"Yes, what is it?" Old Nan snapped at the young squire.

"W-well, I've finished my duties with the castle guard, and I was wondering if..."

"Oy! You there! Be careful with that roast!" Old Nan shouted like a thunder clap at one of the elven servants. "So help me, Andraste, if you drop that dish on the ground for the dogs, I'll have you clean the castle's kennels for a whole month, with your bare hands. So help me, I will!"

The elven servant instantly took extra care in his handling of the dish he was carrying, and all the other servants quickly followed suit. The last thing any of them wanted to was to tick Old Nan off.

The elder woman turned her attention back to Roderick, who instantly stood at attention when he saw the serious look in her eyes. "You, Roderick, right? You're suppose to be a squire here, yes? That means you spend your days polishing the guards' armor and weapons?"

"W-well,yes, but I also..." Roderick stammered.

"Good!" Old Nan barked and tossed an old rag at young Roddy. "Then you can make yourself useful by helping the kitchen servants polish up the silverware. I won't have the Teyrn's family and guests dining on cloudy utensils."

Roderick wasn't too keen on this type of chore. Not for a squire. "Are you sure there's nothing else I can..."

"NOW!" Nan shouted and sent Roderick running to go do his chore, no questions asked.

"Still ever the harsh task master, I see." A familiar voice chuckled.

Old Nan turned around and saw Eleanor Cousland smiling at her, and gave the teyrna a respectful bow. "Strong discipline makes for good organization, as I'm sure any soldier can tell you, milady. Any kind of laziness or lack of attention, and the whole operation falls to pieces. What can I do for you, Lady Eleanor."

"Well, I was wondering if you might have seen Aedan around. I haven't seen him all morning."

Old Nan harumphed in her throat. "Hmph! If I had seen the young master, that blasted hound of his would be having himself a buffet in the larder. Maker knows that troublesome mabari goes where Aedan goes. I'm sorry, milday, but I haven't seen either all day."

"I see." Eleanor said somewhat sadly.

Old Nan could see something was troubling the teyrn's wife, and she could already guess what it was. "Aedan's not too happy with what's happening today, is he?"

"Can you blame him? I'm not exactly happy about it. Both my husband and firstborn son will be gone after today." Eleanor stated as fact. "After today, the castle's going to be far too quiet and empty for either of us to be comfortable."

Despite the lively activity going on in the castle right now, Eleanor wasn't very excited about today. This was the day her husband would be fulfilling his plan to act as ambassador to Orlais and establish relations between their two countries. Meanwhile, Fergus would be taking his first real journey into the world of international relations and politics by going to Antiva to expand his knowledge of economics and trade while also establishing trade agreements on behalf of Highever. Many of the local lords and ladies would be attending tonight's send-off celebration for the both of them, and show their respect to Eleanor as she would be ruling the Highever Teyrnir in her husband's place.

It was only natural for Eleanor to be concerned for her son and husband, but it was equally difficult on Aedan because he very close to his father and brother. Eleanor hadn't seen Aedan all day, and she couldn't help but be certain that he was upset that his father and brother were leaving.

"Would you like me to find him, milady? I'm sure I could bring a smile back to his face if I promised to tell him one of those old stories he likes." Nan offered graciously.

"No, thank you, Nan. I think you're needed here. I'm sure I can find Aedan on my own. Hopefully before the other guests arrive."

One of the elven serving girls came running up to Old Nan, very frantic and almost horrified. "Oh, Mistress! Something terrible has happened. Large rats have gotten into the larder, and they've ravaged the pig we were going to prepare tonight."

"Maker blast it all!" Old Nan cursed. "I swear, those rats are worse than darkspawn. We'll, we've nothing for it now. Grab one of the other servants and have them rush to the butcher's in town. Maybe we can still get our hands on a proper main course before tonight. Forgive me, milady, but I must tend to this."

It looked like Nan was going to have her hands full for a while but she'd been in this position before, and Eleanor had no doubt that she'd be able to pull off tonight's dinner without a hitch. Right now, though, Eleanor needed to find Aedan and make sure he was ready for tonight's dinner. Since he'd be the only Cousland male left in the castle after tonight, he needed to make a good impression.

~XoXoXo~

Arl Howe's carriage was approaching the Cousland's ancestral castle. Every time he came here, he couldn't help but feel that bitter sting of loss and jealousy. This was one of the largest, mightiest castles in Northern Ferelden. Seated atop a large hill, and overlooking the port city of Highever itself, this fortress, with it strong white walls and high towers could house ten thousand men and withstand a siege for years. Whoever controlled this castle, controlled the entire Northern Teyrnir.

And to think, this castle once belonged to the his family, Arl Howe thought with a hint of envy in his mind. Now what did they have? Vigil's Keep; an old crumbling ruin made back when the Avvar barbarians controlled the region. True, the Howes controlled Amaranthine, which is a prosperous port town and trading hub, but it didn't become that way until after the Orlesians took over the country. Even today, many lords in Ferelden saw Amaranthine as nothing more than the port town that the Orlesians shacked up in. If only his ancestors hadn't lost Highever, things would be different.

"Are we there yet, Father?" Thomas Howe asked.

"Yes, we'll be there shortly." The arl answered. He took a moment to inspect both his son and daughter before they arrived. Thomas was dressed in a blue doublet with the Howe family crest on his chest, while Delilah was wearing a fetching green dress he bought for her in Denerim. Many lords would be present here today, he wanted to make sure both his children made a good impression to possible political allies. "Now, Thomas, while we're here, I want you to pay extra close attention to the lords and how they act today. There are many important people here, and it always serves well to know their behavior. With your older brother, Nathaniel, squiring in the Free Marches, it's up to you to serve the interests of our House."

"Yes, Father." Thomas said dutifully.

"And I want you both to remember that the Couslands aren't as...firm as they should be with their elves. So be sure to remember not to treat them as we do back in Vigil's Keep." Rendon reminded.

"So, how should we treat the elves here, Father?" Thomas asked curiously.

"Oh, just say 'please' and 'thank you' to them, I'm sure that'll be enough." Howe waved off. Such treatment was usually more than what elven servants warranted, but the Couslands always did treat their lessers better than they deserved. As the carriage drew closer to the castle gates, Rendon noticed the less than happy look on his daughter's face. "Come now, Delilah, dear. Smile! It just simply won't do for the lovely daughter of the Howes to look so dour."

Delilah sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, Father, it's just that I wish Mother was here with us."

Howe unconsciously gritted his teeth at the mere mention of his wife. "Now, Delilah, I'm sorry your dear mother couldn't make it, but when she's feeling...unwell, it's best to not take her to meet company. You understand, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, Father." Delilah answered glumly.

Rendon could see his daughter's mood wasn't improving. Then he had an idea. "Tell you what, my dear girl: Teyrn Bryce has a younger son who's close to your age. Perhaps you two could meet, and become good friends. I'm certain it would make your mother feel better."

Thomas' eyes went wide with excitement, "I've heard of him! His name's Aedan, right? He's the one who beat up Arl Urien's son so bad, I heard he actually peed himself. And he took down five of Vaughn's friends and bit the face off the guardsman who tried pull him off Vaughn!"

Delilah stuck her tongue out in disgust "Ugh! He sounds like a savage."

"Yeah, that's why it's so awesome!" Thomas laughed. "I heard he did it to save an elf girl Vaughn was attacking."

That's when Delilah's eyes lit up for the first time today, and clasped her hands together like a swooning maid. "You mean, like a knight rescuing a dame in distress? Oh, how brave. How romantic!"

Howe couldn't believe how quickly that caught both his children's attention. "Yes, brave, perhaps, yet also misplaced. But remember this, both of you: nobles, especially rulers of cities, have the right to treats the lower classes as they deserve to be treated. And there are times when the peasantry, especially the elves, must be reminded who is in charge. Never forget that."

"Yes, Father." Thomas acknowledged.

"Now, today is an important event, so I want you both to be on your best behavior. This is going to be the last day Bryce Cousland and his older son will be in the country for a while, leaving only his wife and younger son in the Highever. We want to make sure they know that they can always rely on the Howes." Arl Rendon instructed. This was indeed a very important day. With any luck, Howe would remind all the lords here who he was and how crucial he is to the rest of the realm.

When Arl Howe entered Highever Castle, he saw that many of the local lords, ladies, banns and arls had arrived to pay their respects to Bryce and his heir. Many of them even brought their children with them. Bann Eremon of the Waking Sea Bannorn, with his son and daughter, Irminric and Alfstanna. Eleanor's friend, Lady Landra, was here with her son, Dairren. Bann Sighard with his son Oswin, and many other gathered lord and knights whose names Howe didn't even bother knowing.

Even some of the lords who were sworn to Howe, like Lord Eddlebreck the master of the Faravel Plains, and Ser Derren with his brat, also named Derren, were here before him. Like they couldn't wait to be in Bryce Cousland's good graces by showing how loyal they were to him. Eddelbrek controlled more farmland and all of it's people than any other lord in his arling, and Derren was new money, made rich from building a toll bridge that made travel to and from Amaranthine city quicker. Rendon had to fight the urge to snarl when he saw the both of them. Eddlebreck and Derren's loyalties rightfully belonged to him, yet they, like most of the other lords of his arling went over his head and swore their fealty to Bryce Cousland, as if he didn't have enough wealth and followers already.

As Rendon looked at the grand surroundings of this castle, he found it difficult for anyone not to be awed into reverence. Such a mighty castle with its many soldiers, its vast treasures, and being the seat of one of the only two teyrnirs left in Ferelden, how could anyone not want to be loyal to it? To think, all of this once belonged to the Elstan Family, and by that extension, it once belonged to the Howes.

Amongst the gathered nobles was one fellow arl and his child Howe didn't expect to see. Arl Leonas Bryland of South Reach, Rendon's brother-in-law, and his daughter Habren, his wife's niece. It had been decades since the two had seen each other, and their last conversation was not a pleasant one. But Howe was sure Bryland had put that all behind him now, it had to be water under the bridge at this point.

"Thomas, Delilah, I think I see your cousin Habren over there. Why don't you two go play with her?" Howe bade his children before going to speak with his in-law and former war compatriot. "Ah, Leonas, it's been years! How have you been?"

"I was doing fine, until now." Arl Bryland said with obvious disdain towards his brother-in-law. He looked over to see Howe's children speaking with his young daughter, and from the look on his face, anyone could tell he was not happy. "I see you've brought your children with you, huh? Is it your intention to prance them around like horses at the market and wed them off to the highest bidder?"

"Is that not usually the business of noble marriages, Leonas.? Given your...parental background, I should think you of all people would know that." Howe responded calmly.

"Yes, I believe that's the same excuse you used when you asked me if you could marry my sister. And speaking of which..." Arl Bryland's eyes looked Rendon as if he were searching for something that was missing, "...I see you didn't even bother to bring Elaine with you. Tell me, is my sister simply not appealing to you anymore, or is it now that you've squandered her dowry that makes her so undesirable to you?"

"Oh, come now, Leonas, you can't still be mad about that, after all these years?" Howe said with his most convincing smile. "I was...tactless in my youth. Yes, I needed her dowry, but it was all so I could provide her the life she deserved with being married into, the Howes. And it's not as if I didn't make use of her dowry. Amaranthine has prospered under my rule. I dare say we could rival Denerim in our affluence. I have accomplished much since we've last spoken."

"Yes, of course you have. That's why my sister is a depressed alcoholic living in the crumbling ruin that is Vigil's Keep. And I'm all too aware of how you let Bann Esmerelle tax the people of Amarnthine City into poverty. It's quite pathetic how you still think you can fool me, Rendon." Leonas' voice and face became harsh with scorn towards Howe. "It amazes me that, even after all these years, a man like Bryce would consider a snake like you to be his friend."

Rendon Howe tried to keep a straight face amidst his growing anger at his brother-in-law's blatant disrespect. "Is it really so difficult to imagine, Leonas? Bryce obviously knows who to keep as his friends."

Bryland scoffed in disgust."I don't know what it is. Maybe Bryce's character is better than mine, and he sees something in you that I don't. Or maybe all he sees is the boy he once knew, and you've been smart enough to not show him the real bastard that you truly are. Either way, the fact that Bryce values you of all people as a friend is his single greatest character flaw." The bann turned his back and walked away from his hated in-law.

Rendon Howe could feel his blood boiling in his veins. How dare that half-breed bastard show him such disrespect?! Bryland should have been grateful, no, jubilant that someone of Rendon Howe's stature in Fereldan nobility would deign to allow a member of that half-Orlesian filth into his family! He really needed a drink now. That's when he saw an elf walking by.

"You there, elf! Fetch me a drink!" Howe barked rudely.

The elf heard Howe's order, but didn't acknowledge it. "I'm sorry, my lord, but I'm not a servant here. I..."

Howe angrily grabbed the elf by his shirt. "Are you talking back to me, knife-ear? Do you have any idea who I am!? No matter where I go, it always seems like you elves need to be taught a lesson in manners."

An unfamiliar young man with red hair wearing a yellow tunic grabbed Arl Howe by the arm and glared at him with unflinching resolve. "This man is in my employ, and therefore doesn't answer to you. And if you don't take your hand off him right now, I'm going to teach you more than just manners."

"Do you have any idea who I am, boy?" Howe glared at the younger man and ripped the boy's hand from his forearm.. "And who do you think you are, that you can put your hands on me?"

"Teagan Guirren, Bann of Rainesfere, here on behalf of my brother, Arl Eamon." The young man answered.

Howe remembered this little brat. More of a Free Marcher than a Fereldan, the only reason this foreigner was made a bann was because he happened to be lucky enough to have also been the late Queen Rowan's brother. Other than that, he was no true Fereldan noble. Obviously, Eamon never got around to teaching his little brother his place, Howe would have to remedy that neglect.

"Teagan? Teagan? Ah, yes. I remember now. You rule over a glorified farmstead." Rendon mused with a mocking grinned. "Tell me; did your brother believe this event was so unimportant that he decided to send his younger, less important brother here in his stead. Most unbecoming, really. Especially since he was the one who advocated Bryce be our country's ambassador." The look on Teagan's face told Howe that he had struck a nerve. " But, then again, if I was married to an Orlesian, I wouldn't want to leave my lands with her, either. Otherwise, who knows what her sticky fingers might get into."

"Be very careful, Howe." Teagan warned, his hand resting on his sword. "Those are fighting words, and as it happens, I'm ready for a fight."

As the two lords had their verbal joust, many of the attending guests and even some of the servant began gathering around them, as if they were two posturing roosters in a cock fight. Some were even ready to take bets. It was never a Fereldan party of nobles until someone started a fight.

Yes. The hot blood of youth, Howe thought to himself. He was almost amused by this brat's misplaced vigor. "Oh, please. Don't try to embarrass yourself, boy. While you were safely tucked away in the Free Marches, playing in your little tournaments, I actually fought in the war against Orlais, and partook in Maric's victories." Howe could feel his pride swell as he remembered those glorious days.

"Oh, really?" Teagan questioned, an amused smile spread across he lips. "From what I've heard, you were gutted like a pig at the Battle of White River, and spent the remainder of the war in the care of a woman. And you were only awarded your medals from King Maric because of Bryce Cousland's recommendation."

Then Howe could feel his pride start to bleed, and now he really wanted to make Teagan bleed. In a fit of rage, Rendon's hand instinctively went towards the dagger he had strapped in the small of his back, and he would have used it to carve the insolence out of the lesser Guerrin's eyes if he hadn't felt that familiar hand grab him by the shoulder.

"Now, what's this? Making friends already, Rendon?" Bryce laughed gregariously. He saw the look on Rendon's face and took it upon himself to calm the situation. "Come now, gentlemen. We're throwing this party in the spirit of making friends, not starting wars. Why don't we just put the matter behind us?"

Howe forced himself to smile sincerely enough to convince the teyrn. "Of course, your lordship. I suppose I did let my temper get the better of me and I forgot myself. Please accept my sincerest apologies, Bann Teagan. It's been a rough journey here, and I had a little too much to drink before I even arrived. I meant no disrespect to your family, or Arlessa Isolde."

Arl Howe held out his hand to Teagan. Though apprehensive, the young bann accepted it. "Apology accepted, Arl Howe. And I, too, apologize for my own rudeness."

Despite putting on a smile for the Bryce, Howe's blood was still boiling under his skin, and thoughts of just mutilating Teagan were still racing through his mind. And Bryce!? Damn him! As soon as he walked in the room, everyone was all smiles and curtsies. But wherever Arl Rendon Howe walked, he could here their insults underneath all their muttering. Someday. Someday, his time would come. Howe would gain all that he rightfully deserved and more. And all those who laughed at him would be begging for his favor. But that day would have to wait, now he still had to treat Bryce with the respect Howe wished he had.

"Here, Rendon. Brought out a bottle of my grandfather's finest Coastland Whiskey, just for the two of us." Bryce graciously poured the two of them a glass of the old, precious liquor. The two old friends toasted them and drank deeply. "Welcome back to Highever, old friend. I hope the trip here was safe."

"No need to trouble yourself, old friend." Howe chuckled, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Ever since I've taken up the lordship of Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine has become much safer than it was when those Orlesian bastards controlled our country."

"Ha. Yes. And now I'm going to meet with those same bastards." Bryce laughed. "Chances are, some of them are probably the same men we fought on the battlefield. I just have to pray that my wine isn't poisoned when I get there." "It's strange isn't it? The irony that the Maker plays on our lives."

"Aha! Now that you've said it, you most definitely need to check for poison." Howe laughed.

"I see you've brought your children here, Rendon." Bryce noticed.

"Yes, for an occasion this important, I felt they should be here to witness what could be a very important moment in Fereldan's history." Howe explained, feeling that sting of letting Bryce know he was more important than he was. "I also felt it was time my children met with that younger son of yours and, hopefully, become as good friends as we are."

"Speaking of your children, where is Nathaniel?" Bryce asked.

"Nathaniel? Oh, yes. Nathaniel." For a brief moment, Howe had completely forgotten Nathaniel even existed. "Well, Nathaniel is doing just fine. I felt it was high time he learned the arts of war, so I sent him to squire in the Free Marches under a cousin of my wife."

"Really?" Bryce's interest was piqued. "I'm surprised you'd send your eldest out of the country to be squired."

Howe laughed aloud. "What can I say, old friend? You rubbed off on me a little at the Landsmeet, so I thought what better way than to introduce my eldest son to the rest of the world than by sending him to be trained by a knight of renown."

"This man must certainly be of high standing for you to send your oldest boy to train under him."

"Yes. Ser Rodolphe Varley." At least, Howe believed that was his name. "He is a trained chevalier, who also happens to be one the master-at-arms for the Vael family of Starkhaven."

"Truly?" Bryce asked, rather impressed. "For the ruling Vaels? With a master like that, he'll probably be a great warrior when he returns."

"While we're on the subject of our children's training, I've heard rumor that you've assigned some Avvar mountain man to be your younger son's trainer, and that you've even made him your new master at arms."

"Quite true, Howe." Bryce confirmed with a smile. "His name is Argyle. You might remember him, he fought with us at the Battle of White River, and was among us lucky few to have survived. When the war was over, he joined the Order of Ash Warriors, and after that incident in Denerim a few months back, I asked him to train Aedan. The pup has been training with him nonstop since then."

Howe could barely contain himself any longer. He felt like he could burst out laughing at any moment. "Excuse me, my lord, but such talks of my wayward son are a little difficult for me." he said as curtly as he could manage.

This was just too good. At first, Howe thought those rumors about the youngest Cousland's training was just a bad joke, but after hearing it straight from Bryce himself, it was now hilarious. It took everything Howe had not to burst out laughing. When Nathaniel returns from the Free Marches, he might very well be the man to take the Howe family name out of the shadows of the Couslands, and others. His eldest son was being trained by a renowned knight of good standing, while Byrce's younger son was being instructed by some Avvar barbarian from the mountains. Nathaniel had better return from his training worth a damn.

Then a bitter thought shot through Howe's mind; even if his eldest son did return a great warrior it, such a feat would be thanks to an Orlesian, not a Fereldan. Thanks to his mother's family, not his father's. Any glory Nathaniel gained would be credited to an Orlesian Chevalier, not to Rendon himself. It was bitter but it was true. Such thoughts were making Howe's head hurt so much he needed another drink.

~XoXoX~

While the party was starting to pick up down in the main hall, Fergus was heading upstairs to Aedan's room. His little brother hadn't shown himself all day, and their mother wanted him to make a proper appearance for their guests. This was going to be his and their father's last night in the castle before they both left for foreign shores, and it just wouldn't do for the only male Cousland left in the castle to show up.

Fergus was certain that Aedan was just upset that he was going to be virtually alone in the castle. As much as they loved their mother, she could be true damper on a boy trying to have fun in this huge castle. Fergus knew this from personal experience. Until Aedan showed up, Fergus had to come up with his own entertainment around here.

Fergus knocked on Aedan's door but got no response. He peered his head in and expected to see Aedan possibly pouting on his bed or at his desk. Instead, he saw his younger brother completely out cold on his bed, his dog sleeping on the ground next to him. That's why he hadn't shown his face all day; not because he was upset, but because he was so damned tired. That was understandable. If Argyle had drilled Fergus that hard when he was Aedan's age, he'd probably be in a coma until he was forty. Well, no time to sleep while there was a party going on.

" Hey, Aedan...WAKE UP!" Fergus shouted as loud as he could. Aedan hollered in surprise, jumping out of his bed and landing on his face. Fergus couldn't help but laugh so hard. "Careful, little brother. If you accidentally hurt yourself, Mother won't leave you alone for the whole night."

Aedan groaned and rubbed his stinging nose. "Oh, for the love of... Are you still here? Shouldn't you be in a foreign country by now?"

"Oh, come now, Aedan, don't be such a tit." Fergus chuckled. "If this going to be mine and Father's last night in the castle, at least enjoy it with us."

"Ugh! I don't want to go down there!" Aedan whined. "If it's anything like the Landsmeet, most of them are probably here to lick Father's boots."

Fergus frowned at his brother. "Don't be like that, Aedan. The guests all respect our father, and they're here to honor him before he goes to Orlais as diplomat for our country. You should honor them in kind."

"I just wish you didn't have to go, Big Brother. It's going to be so boring here without you." Aedan complained. "Why do you have to go to Antiva, anyway?"

"Well, think of it like this, Little Brother: you're going to have the whole castle to yourself. And you won't have father or I to get in your way of having fun." Fergus said.

Aedan's face soured like he'd bitten into a lemon. "You're forgetting something, Big Brother: Mother's still here."

"Ha! Well, when you put it that way, Aedan, I guess I am the lucky one here." Fergus laughed and sat himself down at his brother's desk. He noticed a few drawing and sketches of dogs and warriors, perhaps Aedan's fantasies of glory in combat. Some of the drawing were actually quite good. Fergus looked at Aedan and could see by the glum look on his face that wasn't really thrilled right now. "Come, now, Aedan. Tonight's a party, not a funeral. Why the sour look?"

Aeda gave a depressed sigh. "You and Father get to go to foreign countries and do exciting things, while I'm stuck at home with Mother wactching my every move. I want to actually go out do exciting things myself, instead of just reading about it in books."

Fergus couldn't help but laugh a little. He understood exactly how his little brother was feeling right now. Maker knew Fergus was quite restless at his age, and got into all sorts of mischief when he was Aedan's age, and got no small measure of grief and finger-wagging from their mother for it. But after that incident in Denerim last month, and after Aedan's rejection of Andrastianism, everyone in their family knew Aedan was a different animal altogether, and Fergus no longer blamed their parents' concern for him.

"Come now, little brother, chin up. It's not all bad." Fergus tried to assure Aedan, but could see he wasn't buying it. "Trust me, Aedan. Father and I aren't going off on some adventure like in those books you like to read. There's some huge responsibilities on us, especially Father. Instead of being jealous of us, you should just enjoy the time you've got now. Trust me, when you get older you'll wish you'd enjoyed you childhood a bit more. After all, with me and Father gone, you're going to be the man of this house." Aedan was still unconvinced. Then Fergus remembered just the thing to Aedan's spirits up. "You know, there's quite a great deal of people here to pay Father their respects. Many of them are veterans of the war." Aedan didn't seem to really care. "One of the guests that just arrived was Ser Aaron Hawthorne. I heard he just got back from the Free Marches."

"The Ser Aaron Hawthorne!?" Aedan's eyes lit up like Orlesian fireworks at the mention of Ser Aaron's name. He'd heard and read of every adventure the man had ever been in during the war and afterward. The young orphan who became the youngest recruit in the Rebel Army at the age of eight, knighted by King Maric himself at age fifteen, and since then had done every kind of adventure and exploit any knight could possibly dream of. Aedan simply had to go meet him.

Fergus smiled at his own wit as he watched his brother quickly get ready; that certainly got Aedan motivated. Maker, he ought to play the Orlesian Grand Game. "If you hurry, Aedan, you might just catch Ser Aaron before he's swarmed by other admirers."

Aedan quickly got to his feet and set to making himself presentable for the party as his older brother left his room.

~XoXoXo~

"Oh, look there he is."

"Is that Bryce and Eleanor's young boy? Such a handsome lad!"

"Look at that, he's got a purebred mabari!"

"He's the one who gave Arl Urien's son such a whooping? I thought he'd be bigger."

Arl Howe was trying introducing Thomas to Bann Eremon's daughter, Alfstanna, when all of a sudden there was this sudden surge of excitement among all the gathered lords and ladies. Apparently, Bryce's younger son, Aedan, finally decided to show his face, and suddenly every noble here clamored to get a look and introduction to the boy who happened to be this month's favorite idle gossip. Rendon couldn't belive how capricious these nobles were. If it were anyone else who thrashed the Arl of Denerim's son, it would've been a scandal for them to laugh at or the direct cause of a blood-feud, especially when anyone of them would've let that elf whelp to her Maker-give place in the world. But because it was Bryce Cousland's son who leapt to that knife-ear's defense, suddenly he's the best thing to happen since Andraste. The standards amongst the Fereldan nobility was truly starting to stagnate. Someday, someday Howe would show these people what real respect was when he put his family's name on top.

Aedan had arrived to the part just in time; his father was already talking to Ser Aaron.

"Ah, and here he is now." Bryce said to the wandering knight when finally saw his younger son. He put his hand on Aedan's shoulder and introduced him to a tall man with long dark hair and a black beard. The man was broad-shouldered and solid as an oak tree, but had a most welcoming smile for a warrior. "Ser Aaron, this my younger son, Aedan."

"Ah, so this is the young lad everyone's been talking about in Denerim." The legendary knight laughed. Ser Aaron reached out and shook Aedan's hand like he was a comrade. "I must say, would've liked to have had someone like you watching my back during the Rebellion. From what your father's been telling me about you, sounds like you've got the makings of a fine knight."

"You honor me, Ser Aaron." Aedan said humbly, but inside he was full of pride.

"Is it true that you're having your son train under an Ash Warrior Bryce? Excellent! They're fearsome warriors." Aaron Hawthorne complimented as grabbed himself a glass of champagn from a passing servant. "Did I ever tell you about the time King Maric sent me to clear out what few remaining Orlesian holdouts that had entrenched themselves in the southern bannorn? The army was still stationed in Denerim to hold off any attacks by sea, so I only had a dozen Ash Warrior berserkers to help me, some of them freshly recruited from the gallows. But, let me tell you, each of one of them was worth twenty common soldiers..."

Aedan hung onto Ser Aaron's words more than he ever did the Chant of Light. This was the life Aedan wanted: serving his king and country with honor and distinction, to fight his kingdom's enemies and bring glory to his family's name. As far as Aedan was concerned, there was no greater honor or higher calling than that.

And so it went throughout the whole night that the Cousland family celebrated with their friends and peers this last night where both the head and heir of this Teynir would spend on their native soil before venturing beyond their borders for the betterment of their house and country. Aedan followed his brother's advice and enjoyed the time he had with his family, instead of moping around the castle at what he didn't get to do. After all, like his brother mentioned, after tonight, he'd be the man of Castle Cousland.

Some Time Later...

Eleanor sat alone next to the fire place in her master bedroom. It was too quiet these days, and wished so badly for her husband and son's return. It had been a month since the two of them had left Ferelden. Both of them had already written back home, much to Eleanor's delight. Bryce had made it to the port city of Jader and from there he would make his way to the Orlesian capital of Val Royeux. He'd only been in the country a couple of weeks, but it already it sounded like Bryce was making quick friends with some of the Orlesian lords. He even shared drinks with a Chevalier who fought at both the Battle of White River and River Dane. When Bryce makes it to Val Royeaux, he'd be meeting with Empress Celene herself, the first Fereldan lord to do so. Eleanor hoped and prayed for the best for him.

Fergus was also doing well in Antiva City. He couldn't stop describing the beauty of the city and how different this country was from Ferelden. He saw fencing masters dueling by the docks, fisherman reeling in whole sharks into the bay, and Fergus even claimed he had dinner with a nephew to the King of Antiva. Right now, Fergus was making trade agreements with several members of the Antivan merchant's guild, and already things sounded promising. Also, Fergus wrote that he met a woman not long after he arrived in Antiva. Her name was Orianna, and as Fergus wrote, she was an especially lovely woman who had the most beautiful eyes and smile. It sounded like Fergus was falling in love. How wonderful it would be if Fergus came home with a new wife.

While Eleanor was extremely pleased with what was going on with Fergus and Bryce, she wished she felt the same way about Aedan. His studies were going well and Brother Aldous had nothing but praise for Aedan, lways stating that he was one of the best student he ever had. Aldous even believed that Aedan had the potential taking his father's place in the Landsmeet, if he wanted. Yet despite that, Aedan always put twice as much time and energy training under Argyle. If he spent two hours in the library, then he'd spend four hours in the training yard.

Eleanor wished so badly Aedan wasn't so obsessed with fighting and violence. Not every mother wanted their children to grow up to be heroes, because most of history's greatest heroes' lives were full of heartache, terror and almost all of them died a young age. And that was not the life she wanted for her either of her sons. There was so much potential in Aedan, so much he could do and offer the world. It would be a terrible shame for him to waste that potential by living a mere soldier's life.

Which was why Eleanor took it upon herself to ensure that her son did more with his time than just training in the courtyard and running around the castle with that dog of his. So help her Andraste, Eleanor was going to make sure that Aedan started learning more about how to behave like a gentleman instead an axe-swinging savage. The teyrna strode out to the training courtyard where she could hear Argyle drilling her son into the ground. And, sure enough, there was Aedan swinging a practice axe made of hardwood at some straw dummy with Argyle yelling in his ear.

"What in the blue-fuck was that ye lilly-armed runt!?" Argyle barked loudly. "Korth's frozen balls! After all this time, ye still can't do a proper swing?! Ye'd be lucky to break a baby nug's skin with something that weak! Give me another hundred!"

"Argyle!" The teyrna called out before her son could follow through with his drill with a stern look on her face. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, and let me have some time with my son."

"Er, milady, we were about to move onto the next drill soon. We can rest later." Argyle stated.

Eleanor gave the Avvar Ash Warrior the same look that was said to be able to destroy Orlesian warships. "That strangely sounded like you were talking back against the generosity of the Teyrna of this castle. Or am I just being sensitive, Master-At-Arms?"

Argyle stood at attention like he was being questioned by a superior officer. He had actually forgotten that he was talking to the legendary Seawolf, and knew better than to gain her ire. "Millady Teyrna, ye're as sensitive as ye are generous, and I would nae dream o' questionin' yer whims! It would be me pleasure to take the rest o' the day off. Thank ye, Ma'am!" With that, Argyle turned on his heel and marched out of the training courtyard as quickly as his mountainous mass would let him.

Aedan leaned on his practice weapon. Despite panting harder than his dog and sweating like a mine cart mule, it was obvious he was disappointed. "Mother...why...", he stood up straight and tried to get air back into his lungs. "...why would you interrupt my training session? Argyle was going to show me a new technique today."

"Argyle's training and the practice dummies will still be here later, Aedan. Right now, I have another important task for you to attend to. Go change into some clean clothes. I won't have you reeking of sweat throughout the castle."

Aedan did as his mother instructed, then followed her to the castle's library. It must've been very important, given how fast she was moving and how urgently she disrupted his training session. "Aedan, couldn't you have changed into something a little more presentable? No matter. Now that you're the only man of House Cousland in Highever, I have another discipline for you to start training in. One perhaps more important than your sessions with Argyle. I want you to stand up straight and mind your manners. I called in more than a few favors to bring the best instructor I could find to teach you, and I expect you to take these lessons as seriously as you do Argyle."

That caught Aedan's attention. Something more important than martial art training? What could it be? His mother was once the feared and legendary Seawolf, the terror of the Waking Sea. Maybe it'd be lessons in naval warfare or survival tactics in the wild. Those were both skills Aedan felt he needed to be trained in. He always wanted to learn from the Chasind, or even the Dalish. Maybe that dream was about to come true.

When they arrived at the library, Aedan was surprised to not see a combat or survival expert, like he was expecting, but a woman around the same age as his mother. She wasn't armed or armored, but wearing some kind of apron covered in variety of paint stains and various brushes and chalk in the pockets. Another pair of brushes held her mousey-brown hair in a bun with a pair of dwarven spectacles resting in front of her eyes. She was looking at the portraits of Aedan's ancestors hanging in the library as though she were studying them. Who was this woman? She looked more like a school teacher than trainer.

"Lady Cousland, a pleasure to finally be here." the strange woman said with a lilting accent Aedan had never heard before as she curtsied with her apron. "I must say, you have some rather decent painting on your walls. Of course, your wedding portrait is the most impressive of your collection. I should know; I painted it."

"It's wonderful to see you again as well, Madam Zorzi." Eleanor greeted with a smile.

"And is this the boy you wish me to pupil?"

Eleanor nodded her head. "Yes, this is my younger son, Aedan. Aedan, this is Maestra Corinna Zorzi, from Cumberland. She's here to be your art instructor."

"Pleasure to meet...wait, what?!" Aedan couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Lady Cousland crossed her arms firmly. "You heard me, Aedan."

"Mother, I think I've got better things to do with my time than just learning to doodle and draw circles." Aedan asserted staunchly. "What good is any of that going to do me?"

"Ah, a neophyte with no appreciation for art, I see. My favorite kind of student." Maestra Zorzi commented with a smile.

"Excuse us one moment, please." Eleanor bade. She took Aedan out of the study into the hallway for a serious talk. The look on her face showed that she wasn't going to let Aedan walk out on this. "Aedan, Madam Zorzi is one of the most respected painters in the artistic world. Mind your manners and show her proper respect. Besides, Fergus told me about all the drawings you do in your room, I thought this would something that would catch your interest."

"Well, it's not like I asked for to be my teacher, Mother." Aedan argued. "Why would you hire someone to tutor me in something I don't care about? Like I said, it's not like any of she could teach will be of any use to me in life."

Eleanor placed her hand on Aedan's shoulder witha serious look on her face. "Aedan, you are wrong. There's so much more to life than just martial pursuits. Knowledge and mastery of any art medium requires just as much focus and discipline as any martial art. It sharpens the mind and expands the power of observation, which is crucial to any successul warrior, but more than that, Aedan..." Eleanor took her son's hands into her own with a motherly worry in her eyes. "You're not some blunt instrument or a common thug. You have a drive and a goal for your life, and I do respect it, but I want you to be more than just a weapon. I'd like you to learn to do more with your hands than just hold a weapon in them."

Aedan saw the worried look in his mother's eyes, and relented. The last thing he ever wanted was to disapoint her. "Alright, Mother. If that's what you want, I'll give it a try. For you."

"Thank you, darling." Eleanor kissed her son's cheek and left him to his new teacher.

Aedan entered the library, where Madam Zorzi was waiting for him with a welcoming smile on her face. He sat himself at the table and bowed his head to his new teacher. "Please, begin your lesson, Maestra."

The Nevarran instructor pulled a blank piece of parchment and thin stick of chalk from one of the pockets on her apron, and placed them in front of Aedan. "Now, we will start with the basics, young lord. Draw me a circle."

"A circle? Really?"

Madam Zorzi nodded her head. "Even the greatest of warriors had to start with barest of basics. Do you think your King Calenhad or the Grey Warden hero, Garahel, were born great? Of course not! They had to start somewhere. And you will start by drawing me a circle. We will build up from there."

Aedan grumbled under his breath, but didn't argue. If he was going to do this for his mother's sake, he would give it his all. So he started by drawing a damn circle.

Eleanor wanted Aedan to follow more of Fergus' path: led a good, happy life. Find a woman to settle with, and give her many grandchildren. Eleanor remembered what war was like, and despite what some may think or say, it was nothing glorious. Blood, terror and pain, those were her memories of the war, and she did her best every day to try and forget it. Eleanor fought in the war so her children wouldn't have to go through that, yet it seemed Aedan deadset on going into that way of life. Despite Aedan's own beliefs, Eleanor prayed to the Maker every night that he would see the folly of this path he had chosen.

Two Years Later, 9:24 Dragon, Highever...

A carriage was making it's way from the port of Highever City on the road to Castle Cousland. Inside the carriage was Fergus Cousland, back home from his soujorn abroad in Antiva. And with him was the future addition to his family: his fiance, Oriana. He had propossed to her not even a month ago, and was excited to introduce her to the rest of his family now that he was home to stay. When Fergus left Ferelden, he never expected to find the love of his life waiting for him in Antiva City.

And Oriana was so beautiful. Maple-brown hair with such bright green eyes, and her heart-shaped face had the most magnificent smile. And with her sweet nature, charming grace and strong spirit, it would be difficult for any man to not fall for her. Falling in love with Orianna was the easiest thing Fergus ever did.

"Is it much farther, Fergus?" Orianna asked with mixed nervousness and excitement. Not only was this her first time ever leaving Antiva, but this would be the first time she'd meet her in-laws, and it was her first day in this kingdom that would become her new home.

"Oh, not much farther now, love." Fergus assured, taking his betrothed's hand. "You're going to adore living here, Orianna. The winters are gentle here, plenty of open space and fresh air. We can even clear a spot near the castle so you can make your own garden. Much more room to be found than the close walls of Antiva City. And the castle isn't too far away from the ports so we can make plans to visit your homeland whenever you want."

Orianna adored her fiance's boyish excitement. "If it's your home, my love, I'm sure I'll come to treasure it as much as you do. Now, what about your family? Do you think they'll accept me into your family, even though I'm a foreigner?"

"Oh, my darling, such things mean nothing to my parents." Fergus assured his beloved and held her close to him. "They're going to love having you in our family."

"What's your family like, me dear?" Orianna asked curiously.

"Loving and fiercely loyal. There's nothing we wouldn't do for friend or loved one." Fergus answered proudly. "Father has been maintaining relations with Orlais for the past few years, trying to turn old enemies into new friends. And I know you and my mother are just going to love each other. She's always wanted a daughter who was a proper lady, and I can't think of anyone she'd love to have more than you."

"And you've mentioned that you have a younger brother as well?" Orianna recalled. "What's he like?"

"Oh, Aedan was such a shy lad growing up. Quite a bookworm, too. A much better student than I ever was, at least." Fergus laughed. "When I left, that great courage that all Couslands possess began to manifest in him. He actually saved a young elven lass from being attacked by the Arl of Denerim's son not long before I left. Beat him and his friends senseless, and he was a lot smaller than the rest of them."

"Oh, my! In Antiva, such actions would cause a bloodfeud between both families, but your brother would be honored by the people for his chivalry. He must be very brave indeed. Are the two of you close?"

Fergus smiled fondly. "He was always looking up to me to show him around the castle and aid him when he needed help. Sometimes, we'd even get up to mischief together just to have some fun around the castle. I wonder if I'll recognize him after all this time."

Orianna gave Fergus' hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure he'll still be the same brother you love and admire, my dear. After all, it's only been four years."

"You're right, love. I'm sure he couldn't have changed much in such short time."

~XoXoXo~

The carriage soon arrived at the castle, where a grand reception was waiting for Fergus and his bride-to-be. All the servants were out in the main courtyard with Old Nan and Brother Aldous waiting at the front of them. Old Nan actually had a happy look on her face, instead of her usual ornery demeanor.

"Maker, it's like this place hasn't changed at all. It almost exactly the same as when I left it." Fergus marveled as they passed through the castle gate. "Look, there! Those are my parents."

The carriage finally came to a stop, and Fergus excitedly got out to greet his parents who were happily waiting for the firstborn son at the head of the congregation. The teyrn and his wife hugged their wayward son joyously.

"Fergus, my boy, welcome home!" Bryce said, embracing his older son.

"Oh, Fergus, you've been gone too long. Welcome back." Eleanor welcomed, trying her best not to cry from sheer happiness at her son's return. "Have you been getting enough to eat in Antiva? I had Nan make some of your favorites for tonight."

"It's so wonderful to see you both again. Maker, it's good to be home." Fergus kissed them both before reaching back into the carriage and escorting his intended out to meet them. "Mother, Father, this is my bride, Orianna."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you both, Lord and Lady Cousland." Orianna greeted with a ladylike curtsey.

"Oh, my dear, there's no need for such formalities, we're family now." Bryce smiled brightly.

"If there's anything you need, anything to help you feel more at home here, please don't hesitate to ask." Eleanor welcomed heartilly. She hugged Orianna like she was the daughter she always wanted. "Please don't hesitate to ask for anything. Our home is your home now."

Roderick Gilmore approached Fergus with a respected bow. "Welcome back to Highever, Lord Fergus. It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Roderick." Fergus greeted his father's squire with a firm handshake. He looked amongst the crowd of familiar faces and welcoming smiles, but there was one he didn't see amongst them. "Roddy, where's Aedan? I thought for sure he'd be here to welcome us."

"Oh, he went out boar hunting earlier this morning with Dane. Said he wanted to bring back something worthy of a feast in honor of your return."

"By himself?" Fergus asked in disbelief. When Gilmore nodded his head, Fergus suddenly felt deeply worried for his little brother. "I'm flattered that my brother would do such a thing on my behalf, but is that really such a good idea? Hunting a wild boar with only his mabari?" Fergus turned his attention to his parents. "Mother, Father, are you alright with this?"

Eleanor sighed wearily. "Of course I'm not alright with it, Fergus, but it's not like I can stop him."

"You're both worrying too much." Bryce assured with a smile. "Trust me, my boy, your little brother can take care of himself."

Take care of himself? Aedan's only fourteen years old, barely the age of a squire. Wild boar are dangerous creatures, even to hunters on horse back, and they're letting him hunt on his own? Four years ago, Fergus' mother would have never have consented to the very idea of it, especially with Aedan. What's happened in the past four years he'd been gone?"

"Fergus! Welcome home, big brother!" A loud, strangely familiar voice called out to Fergus. He turned around and was shocked at who he saw. It was Aedan, yet somehow it wasn't. The Aedan that Fergus remembered was a small boy barely tall enough to ride his own horse. The Aedan standing in front of Fergus was about as tall as he was, and built as solid as fortress. What had Argyle been doing with Aedan all this time? Was he really only fourteen? No wonder he was hunting boar by himself.

"Aedan? Sweet Maker, is that you?!" Fergus asked in wide-eyed disbelief. He finally brought Aedan in for a big hug, laughing loudly. "For Andraste's sake, Mother, what've you been feeding this boy for the last four years, and why couldn't you have fed me like that? Ha-ha! Come here, little brother, I want you to meet Orianna."

Aedan bowed respectully to his new sister-in-law. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Sister. Every letter Fergus sent home was almost always about you, and now I see he didn't exaggerate."

"The honor is all mine. Fergus just finished telling me so much about you." Oriana greeted. Aedan's dog barked happily at Oriana, wagging his tail affectionately and before rolling onto his back to beg for tummy rubs. Orianna gladly obliged the friendly dog. Fergus couldn't believe how much Dane had grown as well. Last time Fergus saw Dane, the mabari pup was a runt. Now he was even bigger than the average mabari, almost the size of a small pony.

"Wait until you see the size of the wild pig I caught, brother. It's huge!" Aedan bragged with a big laugh. "We're going to have quite the feast tonight."

That night, Castle Cousland feasted and celebrated like it hadn't in ages. Now, with all the members of the Cousland Family, along with their newest daughter, the family was whole once again. Later that month, Fergus and Oriana were officially wed by Mother Mallol in the castle's Chantry, surrounded by many friends and peers, including Arl Howe. Even Prince Cailan and Anora Mac Tir attended the wedding. Aedan acted his brother's best man, and even painted Fergus and Oriana's wedding portrait; it was a beautful piece art. The wedding was the largest celebration in the castle in living memory. A few months after that, Orianna declared that she was pregnant with their first child, and soon a son was born, whom they named Oren. For all intents and purposes, Fergus had found his joy in life. His wife and son had given him all the purpose he needed in the world.

However, while Fergus may have found his purpose and joy in life, Aedan still had yet to attain his goal, his reason for existence. In his heart, Aedan knew what he was. What he was meant to do, what he was meant to become. There was a fire in Aedan, a drive that not many people knew or could understand. It wasn't that Aedan wanted to become a warrior; it was the he was destined to be one. To be the greatest warrior his country ever knew. And he would dedicate every instant of his life to accomplish that.

Two Years Later, 9:26 Dragon, Denerim...

It was late autumn in Denerim. Light rains pattered the landscape the night before making the air smell fresh and filled with a bracing chill. The harvest had been gathered and the bounty of the Bannorn's fields had yielded a magnificent harvest this year. Despite that bounty of that harvest, the heart of the entire Kingdom of Ferelden was still gripped by sorrow and mourning. Just a year previously, King Maric, Saviour of Ferelden, had been declared dead when he was lost at sea when making voyage to Wycome. For almost an entire year, the nation mourned the loss of the king who rose from obscurity to lead his people to freedom.

King Maric's funeral was the largest in Ferelden's history, even greater than the funeral that was held for his ancestor Calenhad the Silver Knight, who founded Ferelden as a kingdom. Some people still held onto the vain hope that Maric was not truly dead, but merely lost at sea. Teyrn Loghain fervently held to that belief that his friend wasn't dead, and had been tirelessly searching for him since; a search he still refused to give up on.

A year after Maric's funeral, a Landsmeet was held to determine who would succeed Maric as king of Ferelden. Ferelden was unique among the nations of Thedas in the fact that rulership and authority didn't come from heriditary title, but was granted to the one deemed most worthy of the throne. There were two names most forwarded for the position of kingship. The first, obviously being Prince Cailan, and the other was Bryce Cousland. Bryce was a decorated war veteran and a proven leader and diplomat, but ultimately it was decided that Cailan would take his father's crown. Arl Eamon and Teyrn Loghain made certain of it, believing that they owed it to Maric to keep the Theirin dynasty on the throne.

Not long after Cailan was crowned, he and Anora Mac Tir were married. It was most certainly a good match, the children of the country's greatest heroes leading the kingdom. However, it was noted by some in the Landsmeet that while Cailan wore the crown, it was actually Anora running the kingdom. Still, very few gave the notion any real thought or care. The kingdom was at peace, and that was all they cared about.

To honor the memory of his father, and to celebrate the continued the independence of their nation, King Cailan decided to arrange a tournament to be held in Denerim open to all comers. Aside from the considerable amount of coin and valuable trophies that would go to the winners, there was another prize that was infinitely more valuable to than material wealth: the promise of a knighthood by the king and queen themselves. No true warrior could possibly let such an honor pass them by.

However, unknown to the majority of people coming to this event, while King Cailan may have come up with the idea for this grand tournament, he actually did very little to arrange it. The actual setting of the tournament, as well as gathering the coin for the winner's purse and all other logisitical requirements for such an event were handled by Queen Anora. If this was going to be in honor of king and country, it had to be done right.

It was a massive gathering. Certainly the largest tournament seen since Ferelden regained its independence. Merchants arrived to peddle their wares to the gathering crowds while peasants and farmers took the day to rest from the work of their daily lives and enoy the festivities. Young nobles, older veterans and green soldiers entered the lists to test their mettle and win victory, glory and, of course, the prize money.

The day was clear, all the participants had entered their names into the lists, the prizes had been prepared for the winners, and the gathered spectors were growing restless in the stands. It was time to being the tournament. The heralds blew their horns, anouncing to the entire capital the presence of the king and queen. King Cailan stood tall and proud donned in his father's armor and crown, his bright, handsome smile welcoming the masses of his countrymen.

"My people! On this day of the tournament, Queen Anora and I welcome and thank you for your participation." Cailan addressed proudly. "It's been more than a year since my father's unexpected death, and I know many of you still feel the pain of his loss, myself especially." Many veteran soldiers and nobles gave a solemn salute at the mention of their late king's name."But I know my father wouldn't have wanted his beloved kingdom and countrymen to mourn forever. He fought to give us back our country, at no small risk to himself, so that our lives might be filled with joy and pride. And for such a contest, where we remember my father's heroic deeds and celebrate our nation's freedom, there can only be one prize worthy of such a contest: Queen and Eleanor shall bestow upon the winner a knighthood!" "So in honor of that celebration, and in loving memory of my father, King Maric, I declare this tournament open! Maker bless all its participants!"

The peasants and spectatos cheered and hollowed from the stands and seats while the participants eagerly prepared for their entry into the lists. Today, one of them would win the pride of a whole kingdom.

Whith the tournament finally starting, Cailan quickly lost interest in sitting as a spectator and decided to go walk and talk among the participants. While her husband was galavanting around like a child in a candy store, Anora stayed with the other nobles. After all, events such as these were perfect opportunities to maintain relationships with the other lords and make sure that things were going well throughout the rest of the country. Sadly, such things were usually too tedious and boring for Cailan's simple mind, so that part of governing was usually left to Anora, which was fine with her. Some jobs are simply best left to those best suited to them.

"Your husband gave a fine speech, Lady Anora. A fine one, indeed!" Arl Urien Kendalls toasted a glass to her.

Bann Sighard of the Dragonspeak Bannorn nodded his head to the future queen. "You must've gotten your gift for fine talk from your mother. I can't recall your father ever giving such inspiring words."

"Thank you, Bann Sighard." Anora said respectfully because it was true. Her father was more of a direct speaker than an inspirational one. "Will your son be entering the lists today?"

"But of course." Sighard chuckled, running his hand through his greying blonde beard. "The instant Oswin got word of this tournament, he couldn't get his name into the lists fast enough. Though I have to admit, I am a bit worried now that I've Arl Wulff is also taking part in the tournament."

"And what about your son, Arl Urien?" Anora asked. "Will Vaughan by partaking today?"

"Oh, yes. My son simply couldn't wait to enter the lists." Urien assured, pouring himself another glass of wine. "After all, as the heir to the Denerim Arling, it just simply wouldn't do for him to not participate when it's being hosted in our very city."

Anora looked around and observed the other nobles that had gathered. Arl Bryland's daughter, Habren, sat excitedly next to her father, begging him to buy her a new dress she saw in the market. Alfstanna Eremon, who had been recently appointed heir of the Waking Sea bannorn since her brother Irminric's abdication to join the Chantry, was participating in the archery contest. Arl Eamon and his wife, Lady Isolde, were sitting in their seats with Isolde holding their toddler son, Conner. Also amongst the nobles was Arl Howe, here with his son, Thomas. Both of them were wearing expensive doublets with badges adorned with the insignia of a striding brown on their chests. Unlike some of the other nobles, Arl Howe wanted Thomas to observe the matches rather than participate in them.

As Anora sat and watched the fesitivities about to start, there was one person amongst the gathered crowd of attendants who she was absolutely thrilled to see. Her favorite tutor, the woman who was like a second mother to her. "Eleanor! I'm so glad you could make it." she called out and walked over to her.

Eleanor hugged the future queen as affectionately as her own child. "Anora, my dear girl! How lovely you look today. Oh, how I've missed you."

"What a pleasure to see you again, Lady Anora." Bryce greeted with a respectful bow.

Anora returned the gesture to the Teyrn of the North. "I'm sorry my father isn't here to greet you himself."

"Nonsense, dear. If I wanted to see your father, I'd go to the Landsmeet." said Eleanor. "I'm happy to see what beautiful young woman you've become. I always knew you'd become a wonderful queen to this country."

"Well, I had a wonderful teacher." Anora said truthfully with an affectionate smile. "And what of your sons, Eleanor? Have they come to watch the tournament as well?"

"Oh, Fergus couldn't wait to show Orianna around the capital along with my little grandson." Eleanor looked over to her oldest son who had his arm wrapped around his Antivan spouse's waist. Orianna was holding their little baby Oren close to her, wrapped up in a warm, lovingly-made quilt to protect him from the autumn weather. Oren's laughter brought a smile to his parents' faces.

"That's your grandson, Eleanor? He's so precious!" Anora praised in adoration.

"Yes, isn't he? And hopefully the first of many." Eleanor smiled proudly with much hope in her voice. "Now, if only Aedan was just as inclined as Fergus to grant me that wish." The teyrna's proud hope dimmed when she said her second son's name.

Bryce put an arm around his wife. "Come now, love, don't be like that. Aedan's still young, not even a full adult yet. Let him live his own life for a while longer before we decide to press him to get married."

"I know, Byce, but having grandchildren is like an addiction. After you have one, you just want more."

"Is he here? I don't think I've seen your younger son since you were declared Ambassador to Orlais, Teyrn Bryce." Anora asked curiously.

"Ha! Aedan couldn't turn down the chance to finally test his sword-arm, so he's one of the late entries into the lists. Oh, look there he is now!" Anora's eyes were guided down to the tourney field and saw the teyrn's younger son, and Anora couldn't believe her eyes. Aedan was about as tall as her father now but probably still had some growing to do, and the splintmail he wore did nothing to hide the fact that he was built like a stone fortress with shoulders that could shame an oxe. Was this really the same shy lad Anora met in the palace salon? Maker's mercy, what did Lady Eleanor feed this lad? Following Aedan closely was a very large mabari warhound with a light brindle coat. There was a solemn look on his handsome face, like he stepped on a field of battle rather than a tournament of celebration. Clearly, Aedan wasn't here to fool around or grandstand like some of the other participants.

"Come, my dear. Let's take our seats and try to catch up before the events start." Eleanor suggested. The three of them took their spots, and despite Eleanor's reservations against Aedan's desire for being a soldier, she was very excited to see how far he'd get in the tournament. She just hoped nothing would happen today that would ruin her son's handsome face; that would make finding a marriage prospect or him all the more difficult.

~XoXoXo~

Arl Howe sat in the spectator stands with the other nobles, and as far away from the dirty peasants as possible. So many lords here had brought some of their best to participate in this tournament to show off in front of each other, like they were measuring their manhoods. They were all fools. While they had their sons and champions fighting in this tournament, Howe was watching them.

"Now, pay attention, Thomas, this is one of the most important lessons I can teach you. Politics is like a game of chess: you never want to reveal what moves your making, and wait for the perfect opportunity to take advantage of." Howe instructed his son.

"But what am I watching for, Father?" Thomas asked.

"Anything that could possibly be of value." Arl Howe answered, pointing to all the people in the crowd, in the stands and on the field. "Look for any potential men we could hire. Who's making bets on which fighters to win, and who's making bribes for others to take a dive. What weaknesses each warrior had on and off the field, and how can they be exploited. These are the things we must look for and be aware of when you're looking to maneuver your way in the political world." Then Arl Howe noticed someone of particular interest amongst on the participants: Bryce Cousland's younger son. It looked like Bryce was letting his young pup play with the big dogs in the mud like a common mongrel. That boy always did have more bark than brains; perhaps this'd be the day the boy would learn not to overstep himself.

~XoXoXo~

Aedan made his way to the figher's tent he was using for the tournament so that he could get ready with Dane follwing him like his shadow, his match would be starting soon. Apparently, Oswin's opponent had withdrawn due to food poisoning, so Aedan would face him after he beat his first opponent. Aedan donned his armor and grabbed his weapon of choice: the battleaxe. As he thought about all the different strategies and techniques he could use in his match. Aedan had just finished putting on his heavy mail armor when felt a familiar shadow cast itself over him. He looked up and saw his master-at-arms, Argyle. As tall as Aedan may have gotten, Argyle was still a giant.

The Avvar Ash Warrior looked down on his student with a small smile hidden under his thick, shaggy beard. He greeted Aedan with his thick mountain accent. "Ah, today's the day, little lordlin'. Ya finally get ta put ya trainin' to some us. How're ya feelin'?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, Argyle." Aedan confessed to his mountainous instructor.

Argyle flashed the same stern, unforgiving look he always gave his student whenever he got one of their lessons wrong. "Well, ye'd do well to push that pile a goatshit out yer head, boy. Remember what I taught ye, boy: If ye truly wish to defeat the enemy, ye must break them 'fore they even face ye."

This was the one lesson that Aedan had yet to even master, because the opportunity itself hadn't even arrived. "And how do I leave such an everlasting impression? How do I make people fear me before they've ever fought me?"

"That's why the first battle ever fought is just as important as the last one." Argyle answered as cold as the Frostback Mountains. "This is where ye must make your mark known to any and all who would know ye as a warrior. Otherwise, all ye shall ever be known as is Bryce Cousland's younger son, and nothing else." Argyle looked through the crowd of participants and saw one that could prove his point. "Look, that knight over there." Aedan looked and saw that Argyle was pointing at a woman knight. Female knights were actually quite common in Ferelden, as Aedan's mother could attest to. She was a rather fair looking young lady, but obviously more comfortable in her battle armor than in a dress. And any man who thought she had no place on a battlefield would probably have to answer to that greatsword strapped to her back. "See that woman over there? That's Ser Cauthrien."

"The Ser Cauthrien?!" Aedan asked, almost not believeing his own eyes.

"Ah, so ye've heard of her. Then tell me, what have ye heard?"

"Originally a farmer's daughter, she helped Teyrn Loghain fend of a group of bandts after he'd been ambushed." Aedan answered right off the top of his head. "She volunteered to join his service, and now serves as the Teyrn's top lieutenant, and the leader of Maric's Shield, Loghain's personally picked elite guard. And look there, strapped to her back," Aedan pointed to the greatsword the knightly lieutenant was armed with, "that's the Summer Sword. Crafted by Vercenne of Halamshiral, one of the greatest swordsmiths in Orlais' history. Loghain took it as trophy from it's original master and gave it to Ser Cauthrien as a reward for her service."

"See? Ye already know who she is before ever facing her." Argyle correctly stated, proving the point of his lesson. "Now, how many combatants here do ye think are eager to face the famous Ser Cauthrien, and her Summer Sword?"

"Not many." Aedan stated factually.

"Intimidation is the ultimate weapon against any enemy. That is what ye must accomplish, right here, today. Why yer first match will be the most important one." Argyle emphasized strongly. "Find a way to establish dominance. Shatter their confidence, make them fear ye, and there shan't be an enemy in all o' Thedas that can stand before ye. Then, only then, will ye truly be the greatest warrior in all of Ferelden."

With that, Argyle took his leave and allowed his student to prepare for his match. Aedan sat for a moment contemplating the lesson his master-at-arms tried to impart on him for the past six years of training. It was never enough to be able to just swing a weapon; to be a successful warrior, he had to leave an impression. But what could he do? How could he make himself known as more than just Bryce Cousland's younger son?

Aedan heard the trumpets calling the first round to begin and the tournament heralds calling his name. He took a deep breath to try to keep himself calm, this would be the first time he'd ever put his training to use. Dane gave Aedan several encouraging barks, earning a quick pat on the head from him. Aedan grabbed the battleaxe he brought with him from Highever. There was no point in trying to think out a strategy now. In a battle, there was only action, reaction and whether not he could do enough of either. Time to put his training to the test.

~XoXoXo~

The tournament herald stood in the middle of the tournament field for the individual duels of the tournament, with both combatants standing in the their corner. "Now we come to the first match of the dueling competition. In the blue corner, we have Captain Lennox Garm of the Winters Breath Bannorn, multiple tournament contender and officer of the Crimson Oars mercenary company!" the older knight clad in platemail tossed off his helmet and raised his longsword to the cheering crowd, basking in their adulation and loving how the herald said his name. "And in the red corner, a newly arrived to the tourney grounds, but eager to make a name for himself, second son of Bryce Cousland, Aedan of Highever!" Aedan stepped forward and saluted the crowd, though they did not give him the same reception they did Ser Lennox. He saw his parents cheer for him with his brother, sister-in-law and baby nephew.

"Look, there's your Uncle Aedan, Oren." Fergus said to little Oren, pointing down at his younger brother.

"Wish him luck, dear." said Orianna, gently holding her son. Oren smiled and laughed loudly, waving his little hand towards his uncle, and Aedan waved right back.

Captain Lennox scoffed at his much younger opponent with a smug look on his face. Then, in the true Fereldan fashion, before any sort of fight began, first came the insults. "What's a wet-nosed whelp like you doing in a tournament for fighting men? Are you even old enough to have hair on your peaches yet?" Lennox laughed obnoxiously. Men from Winters Breath were not famous for their manners. "Hey, tell me something, boy: when you lick your lips, can you still taste your mother's teats on your tongue?" He looked over at Orianna in the stands with a lecherous look on his face. "Maybe when I'm done showing these people how a man fights, I can get a taste of that appetizing Antivan over there, show her what a real Fereldan man is like. I'd leave enough for that brat of hers to enjoy."

Aedan took extreme offense to that. Nobody dishonors a member of House Cousland to his face. Nobody.

Aedan's face said nothing, but there was a rage burning behind his blue eyes like a volcano. Before the herald began the fight, Aedan discarded his axe to the ground, and picked up a rock no bigger than his fist, and just stood there.

"BEGIN!" the herald cried, and the crowd cheered.

Lennox stood with his longsword ready, while Aedan just stood there with his arms at his side with only that rock in his hand. Some people were cheering for the knight to go and finish his opponent, while others were urging the younger Cousland to not be stupid and pick up his axe.

"Aedan, what are you doing?!" Fergus called out from the stands. He couldn't believe his brother was just standing there defenseless.

"What's the matter, boy? Did you forget how to use a real weapon, or did you just lose your nerve?" Lennox mocked, but Aedan reamained silent. "Am I to take this as a surrender?" still, Aedan said nothing but flashed the older mercenary an enraged glare. "Hmph! I'll take that as a 'no'!"

The crowd roared loudly as fight started. Eleanor felt like she was going to have a heart attack as she watched Lennox charge at her son, his sword in full swing. The roars and cheers of the mob became dead silent when Aedan caught Harwen's sword in his mailed hand mere haris away from his face without even blinking. For a split second, Lennox was so surprised by this feat that he didn't even notice the rock in Aedan's other hand racing straight into his face.

The crowd groaned at the sound of Aedan's rock crushing into Lennox's jaw, shattering it like glass and dazing him so badly he dropped his sword. Then Aedan grabbed Lennox by the neck and chokeslammed him into the ground with such force that he spat up blood when he landed. Aedan raised his rock high over his head, and smashed it square into opponent's face, over and over again like a hammer crushing a nail. The crowds bloodlust was quickly replaced by pity at the sight of Aedan's merciless beating of his opponent until they could no longer stand the sight of it.

"Mercy! For the love of the Maker, mercy!"

"No more!"

"He's beaten. Stop it!"

One person watching this fight couldn't stomach the wanton brutality, and rushed out into the the arena. Everyone watching was shocked to see Ser Cauthrien herself approach the fighters. The referee dared not get between anybody.

"For Andraste's sake, he's had enough! The fight is over!" Ser Cauthrien demanded. As a knight, it disgusted her to see such barbarity inflicted on an already defeated enemy. "Have you no honor?!"

Aedan halted his mauling and gave the highly esteemed knight a vicious look, before looked glaring down at his brutalized opponent on the ground before him. His face was covered in bleeding gashes, one of his eyes swelled shut and several large knobs sticking out of his skull. Lennox was truly defeated, but Aedan couldn't care less.

"Do you surrender, asshole?" Aedan asked his brutalized opponent. Lennox could only sob in pain. "Hmph! I'll take that as a 'NO'!" Before Ser Cauthrien could do anything to stop him, Aedan raised his leg and stomped his heavy metal boot onto Lennox's beaten face, really hard. It didn't kill him, but Lennox was never going to considered good looking after today. "Now, Ser Cauthrien, the fight's over."

"Th-the winner is...A-Aedan C-C-Cousland." the tournament Herald stuttered far too quietly, but none of the spectators needed to hear him say it.

"Bring a stretcher! Get this man to a healer." Cauthrien ordered. She had a revolted look on her face as the younger combatant turned his back to her.

Aedan picked up his axe and walked off the field. Everyone got out of his way as he walked. The only one to give the younger Cousland a single solitary salute of respect was Argyle, the Avvarian Ash Warrior. There could no doubt in anyone's mind that everyone here would know Aedan's name after this.

~XoXoXo~

Vaughan Kendalls emerged from his tent wearing a shiny new set of armor his father had bought. The armor did absolutely nothing to hide the smug, arrogant confidence he felt right now. He pulled out the sword strapped on his hip and took a moment to admire the blade, and his own reflection. Both the sword and the armor were forged by the master smith Wade of Denerim. With these, Vaughan new he couldn't possibly lose. His first match would be against Oswin of Dragonspeak, Bann Sighard's whelp. He would show that country bumpkin the differences in their stations.

As he made his way to the field, Vaughan stunned dead in his tracks and dropped the sword he so proudly admired. Sweet bloody Maker, it couldn't be, yet somehow it was. It was that little Cousland bastard, the one who attacked him from out of nowhere six years ago. Only he wasn't so little anymore. Vaughan watched from a safe distance in collective horror with crowd of spectators as the Highever savage pummeled his opponents face into the ground with a rock, without stop and without mercy.

For a moment, Vaughan suddenly lost all control of himself as vivid and horrific flashes of that painful beating he once recieved at that bastard's hands came flooding into his mind, and he unconcsiously pissed himself. After a moment that dragged on forever, Vaughan realized he was standing in a puddle of his own urine. That's when he knew he had to get out of here, right now. He was already a noble, winning a knighthood was pointless.

He would just tell the tournament herald that he was suffering from some kind of food poisoning. Yes. Something made by the elves, anyone would believe that. It was better to back out now, rather than be beaten and humiliated in his own city. That Cousland bastard would be out of the city when the tournament was over, then Vaughan would have free reign of this city again. Vaughan never wanted to see that bastard again.

~XoXoXo~

Anora sat next to her husband, just as stunned as everyone else at what they just saw. There was no way someone that brutal could've been the same shy boy she met those years ago.

"Well, one things for certain: the men of House Cousland certainly don't lack for fighting spirit." Cailan complimented. It was probably the only nice thing was going to be said about that match all day.

"A most impressive display." Arl Wulff said gruffly but was nonetheless genuine in his remark. "I never would've expected a boy from this tournament to fight like that. That, Your Majesties, that is how people fought during the war. You remember, don't you, Bryce?" The older arl asked the Northern Teyrn. Bryce said nothing, but knew exactly what Wulff was talking about. "Fereldan men and women going to battle against armed and armored Chevaliers with nothing but farming tools, rocks and even their bare hands. I never expected anyone from this generation to fight like that. You've raised a strong son, Bryce. Well done."

Bryce wasn't sure how to accept such a compliment from an Arl as aggressive and belligerent as Gallagher Wulff, but he was right: Aedan demonstrated exactly the kind of brutality someone would use in war.

"He must get it from your side of the family, Bryce." Eleanor passed on to her husband.

"Me?" Bryce said incredulously. "Last I looked, you're the one who always had the mean temper, and wasn't it your father who was known as the Storm Giant?"

"Well, whoever he gets it from, I'm sure he'd make a fine addition to the Army." King Cailan commented with that bright smile of his. "Don't you think so, Uncle Eamon?"

"Perhaps." Arl Eamon of Redcliffe said stoically. "However, one needs to do have more than just a will to kill to be a successful commander. As I'm sure Teyrn Loghain could attest to."

"I couldn't agree more!" said Bann Ceorlic sternly, his jowels shaking. "His first match was like a common bawl, unworthy of any sort of knighthood. And as if that weren't bad enough, he showed such blatant disrespect to Ser Cauthrien of all people!"

"Hmm. Sounds to me like you don't have that high opinion of me younger brother." Fergus said rhetorically. "Anyone here care to make this tournament a little more interesting? I'll wager fifty sovereigns that my little brother makes it to the end of this tournament."

"That's hardly a bet at all! Bann Ceorlic declared. "I'll wager sixty sovereigns that Ser Cauthrien wins this tournament with ease."

"Put my money on the Cousland boy!" Bann Sighard added, putting his money down.

Even King Cailan threw in a sackfull of coins to the pot. "No offense, Fergus, but I've seen what Ser Cauthrien is capable of, and I can't very well bet against a member of Maric's Shield, can I?"

"Especially since she's been trained by my father." Queen Anora added.

"Well come on, then. Are there any other brave nobles of Ferelden here willing to bet on the new lad on the field?" Fergus asked his fellow peers. "Trust me when I tell you, my little brother is full of surprises. Some of them are even pleasant."

"Oh, come now, Fergus. Surely you can't be serious."

"Fergus! Shame on you." Eleanor chastised. "Your brother isn't some racehorse or rooster in a cockfight that you can just put odds on."

"Really, husband, you should know better." Oriana said in agreement with her mother-in-law, her son still in her arms. "What kind of example are you setting for little Oren by treating your own family like prize-wining animals?"

"Bryce, don't you agree?" Eleanor asked her husband.

"Oh, yes. Yes! That's, uh, very wrong of your Fergus. You should definitely know better." And as soon as he was sure that both their wives were content with his answer, the Teyrn put a bag of coins in his older son's hand, and whispered, "Give me 3 to 1 odds on Aedan." then he quickly walked away before his wife found out what he was doing.

Fergus took on quite a few bets from his fellow nobles. There were a few men willing to be on Aedan, but most of them were putting their money on Ser Cauthrien, the safe bet. With the amount of coin on the line, he could buy his wife a winter home back in Antiva. If Aedan won, Fergus would definitely give a good percentage of the winner's pot to him, that was the least he could do. If Aedan lost, however, then he was going to come up with a good excuse to tell his wife how he lost so much money.

~XoXoXo~

While Fergus was getting a head start on Oren's inheritence fund, Aedan was waiting for his next match. He sat at one of the long feast table set up for the fighters, but, for obvious reasons, nobody else wanted to sit with him, which suited Aedan just fine. After all, nobody who participates in a tournament does it to make new friends, and after witnessing what he was capable of doing, they should be scared of him. As Aedan fed Dane some scaps from his plate under the table, someone definitely not scared of Aedan sat opposite of him at the table. It was Ser Cauthrien.

"I suppose you must feel proud of yourself, winning your first math like that." Cauthrien said scoldingly.

"Not my fault that the unfortunate Ser Lennox didn't have the skill to back up his mouth." Aedan said back. "As the old saying goes, 'talk shit, get hit'."

"The healers say it'll probably be a miracle if he doesn't have brain damage, but he'll probably be blind in one eye, and his jaw will be permanently damaged." The woman knight glared angrily. "Does it not bother you that you may have destroyed a man's life?"

"Not in the slightest, Ser Cauthrien. If he couldn't even put up a half-decent fight, then clearly had no business being here in the first place." Aedan said, completely disinterested in the older knight's scorn. "And besides, that prick got what was coming to him."

This boy's indifference and lack of honorable conduct was starting to anger Cauthrien. His behaviour was unworthy of a son of a war hero, much less a knighthood from the king and queen. "Hmph. And here I thought any son of Bryce Cousland would be of a higher standard, but you're just like so many other nobles: you think you can do whatever you wants, beat whoever you don't like, and you don't have to face any consequences."

Aedan's face twisted into a hateful scowl, and flashed a glare to match Cauthrien's. Any respect he had for her was now replaced by anger. "I don't owe you an explanation, nor do you even know the first thing about me, Cauthrien, but maybe it's time you learned. We don't have to wait for the next match to settle our little dispute." Aedan's hand reached for his axe, ready to use it. Cauthrien's hand stated twitching instinctively, ready draw her Summer Sword if this boy tried anything. Then Aedan recoiled his hand, but a smug smile crossed his face. "But I don't want to do that. If I'm going to beat you, I want everyone, the king and queen included, to watch me defeat the great Ser Cauthrien, Commander of Maric's Shield."

"You've certainly got a lot of confidence for a novice with no combat experience outside of fighting like a common thug. For your sake, I hope that's not just highborn bravado talking, because Teyrn Loghain trains only the best."

"The Teyrnir of Gwaren always falls short of the Highever Teyrnir. I'll see you out on the field towards the end of this tournament, and you're going to see exactly what the warriors of Highever are made of." Aedan promised sternly.

"We shall see."

Both warriors left the table with a renewed sense of determination to win this tournament. Aedan had originally entered this competition to merely test his skills and honor the memory of the late King Maric, and he beat the living crap out of Ser Lennox for insulting his sister-in-law, but now he had a real reason to fight to the end. He owed no explation or justification to Ser Cauthrien. No matter who it was, even Teyrn Loghain himself, Aedan would be damned before he let anyone sniff their nose at him for upholding his family's honor.

~XoXoXo~

And so it was that the two warriors made their way through the tournament lists, defeating one opponent after the other, demonstrating to all comers why their names were to be respected. Ser Cauthrien won the admiration of noble and commoner alike with her valiant fighting style and her masterful use of the Summer Sword. There wasn't a knight, soldier or warrior here who didn't respect the formidiability of the commander of Maric's Shield. Despite not being present at this tournament, Ser Cauthrien's skill and honor did great service to Teyrn Loghain.

However, the matches with Aedan were a different story. After that bloody display with Ser Lennox, the rock and the boot-stomp, Aedan had earned the enmity of almost every opponent he faced and they all wanted a piece of him now. In the stands, there were more than a few spectators, commoner and noble alike, who wanted to see the hotheaded youth brought low. Aedan couldn't give the smallest crap for their feelings; he had done what he set out to do.

In every match he fought in, in every opponent he fought, they were either so full of outrage against him that they left themselves open for a finishing blow, or were taken by a sense of fear and hesitation at Aedan's brutality that he was able to overwhelm them with his axe. One by one, Aedan unleashed the tens of thousands of excruciating hours of blood, sweat and tears Argyle had inflicted on him in the training yard and visited it right back on his adversaries. If there was ever any proof that the younger Cousland was born to do battle, this was it. This was where Aedan was meant to be. Not in some Chantry, singing hyms to an absent god, or in the Landsmeet Hall to discuss law, but to maul his enemies with his axe.

With each match the respective warriors won, more and more of the noble spectators laid down their wagers to see which of them would become tournament champion. The winner's purse became big enough that the the winner could live richer than the king and queen for a whole week. If Aedan won, Fergus was going treat Orianna to a most spectacular evening. If his brother lost, however, Fergus would have to pray to the Maker that his wife never found out about how much money he bet or she'd have him by his ear until Oren was a grown man.

Finally, the match everyone was waiting was about to begin. The Championship round, Ser Cauthrien versus Aedan Cousland, both representing their respective teyrnirs. Everyone was on the edge of their seat for this fight.

Both warriors stood in their respective corners as the tournament herald announced their match.

"And here we are, the final match in this tournament to honor the memory of great King Maric, and what a match it promises to be!" the herald declared. "Here in the Blue Corner, wielding the legendary Summer Sword, we have the Commander of Maric's Shield and right hand of Teyrn Loghain himself, Ser Cauthrien!" A tidal wave of cheers from the crowd came crashing down on Cauthrien as they praised her name. She raised the Summer Sword in honor of their adulation, raising their cheers to new heights in her name. The herald raised his arms to lower the voices of the crowd. "And in the Red Corner, we have the newcomer that has taken this tournament by storm to leave his mark on every opponent he's faced. The second son of the war heroes Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, Aedan of Highever!" Aedan stepped forth, but unlike with his illustrious opponent, the crowd was as silent and grim as a corpse, but their glares of discontent were louder than even their previous cheering. Once again, the only sounds of encouragement came from Aedan's own family.

Cauthrien stepped forward to her opponent, nodding her head to him in recognition of his skill. "You made it to the very end, most impressive for someone so new to actual combat."

"Your standards for what counts as impressive must be lower than mine, Ser Cauthrien." Aedan said back with no regard for the knight's compliment. "Is it impressive when a wolf kill rabbits?"

"Your lack of modesty does you no credit." Cauthrien chastized as though she were scolding a child. "A true knight values modesty."

"And an effective knight knows his worth." Aedan snarled in his throat. "Enough of this! I didn't enter this tournament to make friends or be lectured at. I came to win! Now, let's see if that oversized piece of Orlesian crap of yours is worth a damn." Aedan held his axe ready to put himself against her.

"So be it." Then Ser Cauthrien assumed a stance with the mighty Summer Sword held in front of her, ready to use the blade against her northern opponent.

"Let the match begin!" And with that, the match began and the herald got put as much distance between himself and those two as he possibly could.

The crowd cheered loudly as the two warriors of the Nothern and Southern Teyrnirs stood off against each other, their battle stances ready. It came as no suprise that Aedan was the one to make the first move. He attacked his opponent by swinging his axe right at her neck. Cauthrien parried Aedan's attack with flawless technique, using his own momentum to knock him off balance, and followed through with her own strike with the Summer Sword. Aedan quickly recovered his footing, but barely managed to block the greatsword's blade with his axe's haft mere hairs away from his face, then pushed her away from him to gain some distance.

Cauthrien wasn't like the other opponents Aedan had faced. She was not scared of him, and would teach him how true knight fought. She closed the distance between them by lunging at him with the Summer Sword with the force and precision of a lance. Aedan dodged the lunge and countered with another swing, bringing all his strength to bare in one powerful blow, and that was exactly what Ser Cauthrien wanted. She quickly pivoted on her foot and swung her Summer Sword at Aedan's axe, meeting his strike with her own. The quality and masterful craftsmanship of the Summer Sword was proven in that instant when it sliced off Aedan's axehead like his weapon was a twig.

"Shit!" Aedan cursed at the sight of his now headless stick in his hands.

"Yield, Cousland! This fight is over." Ser Cauthrien declared held he legendary sword up to Aedan face.

But it wasn't over. Not for Aedan. If there was one lesson that Argyle beat into him, it was that a warrior never stopped fighting just because he was disamed. Aedan used the broken shaft of his axe to knock the tip of Ser Cauthrien's blade into the dirt. The knight was so caught off guard by her opponent's action, having fully expected him to accept the outcome of this fight and surrender, that she didn't even have time to react when Aedan swung that broken axeshaft and cracked it right on her wrist with such force she knew her wrist broke, making her cry out in pain. With her grip broken, Cauthrien's legendary sword fell from her hands, and Aedan quickly kicked it out of her reach. Then Aedan grabbed her by the arm and threw her over his shoulder, making her land in the dirt with enough force to make her see double.

Aedan wasn't going to take any risks, not with a knight and military officer trained by Teyrn Loghain himself. As hurt as she was, Ser Cauthrien could still turn this match against him if she was given half a chance. So he wasn't going to give her any chance at all. Aedan placed his mailed boot on Cauthrien's neck and applied just enough pressure to stop her from making any sudden movements.

"Yield, Ser Cauthrien. Now this fight is over." Aedan put a little more pressure on her throat to show her how serious he was.

If only looks could kill, Cauthrien would've struck her opponent dead and on fire with the hateful scowl she had on her face. Sadly, the reality was, he literally had his boot on her neck, and could very easily kill her if he wanted. As angry as she was at this upstart boy, Cauthrien was even angrier at herself. She was so certain of her own victory by disarming him, that she completely underestimated her opponent, despite seeing how vicious this northern heathen was and fell victim to her own hubris. Cauthrien's defeat was her own fault, and a disgrace to Maric's Shield. She had no choice. Cauthrien had to concede defeat, and tapped out.

"The winner is Aedan of Highever!" the Herald declared loudly. Much to the disappointment of the crowd.

If the common folk in the crowd were disappointed, they had nothing on the nobles who were betting against Aedan to lose. A lot of their purses were suddenly a lot lighter.

"I object to this outcome!" Bann Ceorlic complained loudly. "How can that disgraceful display possibly be considered a victory? He was disarmed! He should've accepted his defeat with honor and dignity."

"Maybe that's what you would've done, Ceorlic, but clearly the Couslands are made of hardier stock." Arl Bryland stated as he collected his coin, having bet on Aedan's victory.

"That boy did exactly what anyone in the Rebellion would've done and kept on fighting." Arl Wulf commented.

"Whether with a weapon in hand or no weapons at all, a warrior of Ferelden never surrenders." Arl Eamon acknowledged.

"Ha! Isn't that the truth, Uncle." King Cailan laughed. "It's a shame he wasn't born back during the war. I think both our fathers could've used such a man against the Orlesians. Don't you think, darling?"

"Perhaps. But I think he'd have to learn a little more self-control before either of our fathers would've considered taking him under their command." Anora answered. Despite her passive demeanor, she couldn't believe what she just witnessed. How in the holy name of the Maker could that have been the same bashful lad she met only a few years ago? How could he have beaten Ser Cauthrien of all people?

"Well, self-control or not, he certainly taught Ser Cauthrien a thing or two, and most definitely earned himself a knighthood. You must be very proud, Fergus." Cailan said, giving the older Cousland son a friendly slap on the back.

"Sweet Maker, he's one mean bastard!" Fergus blurted out without even thinking.

"Fergus! Language!" Orianna scolded sternly, trying to cover little Oren's ears. "If you speak like that, Oren's first word might be some kind of obsenity. And that's your little brother you're talking about!"

"I'm sorry, my love. You're right, I should know better. I'll be conscious of my language from now on." Fergus said to spare himself a tongue-lashing from his wife. "Of course I'm proud of my little brother. I always knew he'd be an outstanding warrior." After all, Aedan just made Fergus more money in a single day than the Merchant Guild probably made all week. Not that he'd ever tell his wife or mother about that.

Despite everyone else's reactions, nobody was more shocked about what just happened than Aedan's parents. When Bryce hired Argyle to teach his son the arts of war, he never expected this to be the result. Eleanor, however, was deeply horrified. This is what has become of her beloved younger son? This is what he wanted out of his life? What happened to precious little boy she once knew? In all good conscious, Eleanor couldn't bring herself to feel pride in Aedan's victory, only horror. She knew that this victory would not be enough for Aedan, and that he'd seek greater challenges for that was the hunger of a warrior. In her heart, Eleanor knew that she'd have to face the reality that Aedan would walk towards his own death.

Later That Evening...

The tournament came to a close with the announcement of all the event winners, each recieving prizes from their respective events. Bann Alfstanna Eremon put every man in Denerim to shame when she effortlessly dominated the archery contest. Arl Eamon's brother, Bann Teagan, won the best mabari contest. The strong man contest was once more won by Arl Wulf's oldest son, for the third year in a row. Each of them recieved their respective prizes and words of praise from Ferelden's monarch's themselves. Then came the time everyone had gathered for: the tournament's grand prize of a knighthood to be awarded to the grand melee's winner. A knighthood, bestowed upon by the king and queen's own hands.

Argyle stood in the back behind the crowd of spectators. Despite that, the massive Avvar Ash Warrior was still incredibly inconspicous. He raised a mug of beer to his student. Hard to believe this was the same mouthy little runt he first met back in Castle Highever's courtyard. It made him glad he came down from the Frostbacks

The entire Cousland Family beamed with delight in their youngest member as they watched Aedan approach the king and queen. Fergus held his infant son high so that he could see his uncle's great achievement. Aedan's prized hound, Dane, barked excitedly as though he wanted to shout words of congratulations to the one he was imprinted on, but mabari were wise enough not to speak. Bryce fought back the urge to shed a tear of joy at this moment. His father didn't live to see him be knighted, so to be able to share this moment with his own son was one the greatest blessings of being a father. Despite her misgivings, Eleanor's heart swelled with pride in her son. This would be an honor their house would never forget. Aedan stood tall and strong, and showed all the respect that was due Ferelden's monarchs.

King Cailan smiled brighter than a summer sun at the younger Cousland. "Well done, young ser. By winning this tournament, you showed the strength and perserverence that dwells in every soul of this kingdom. I expect nothing less from a man of the Cousland Family. You do your house great honor, young man."

Queen Anora stepped forward, full of grace and magnimity. "Of all the prizes that could possibly be gained, there is only one recognition that King Cailan and I can grant that could possibly honor such resolve. Aedan Cousland of Highever, would you be so humble as to take a knee?"

Not even the Grand Cleric of Ferelden would ever recieve this kind of veneration from Aedan, as storm of emotions coursed through when he knelt in fervent respect to his king and queen. Proud wasn't a strong enough word to decribe what Aedan felt in this moment. All those countless hours of excruciating training and painful drills, and fighting against a great warrior like Ser Cauthrien, all for this moment. To be recognized as a warrior worthy of serving his country.

Aedan lowered his head as King Cailan and Queen Anora raised the royal regalia, Maric's sword and scepter, above him.

"Through strength of arm..." The King started. "By valor of deed..." The Queen continued. Then they both recited, "And through victory in combat, I, King Cailan...", he placed Maric's sword upon Aedan's right shoulder. "And, I, Queen Anora...", she placed the royal scepter upon Aedan's left shoulder. "...of the Theirin Dynasty, and by our authority as sovereigns of Ferelden, hereby declare and dub thee a knight of Ferelden. Rise and be recognized, Ser Aedan Cousland of Highever."

Aedan rose from his knee, and in that single moment, he felt for the very first time that he might cry for sheer joy. For some, this could considered considered their crowning achievement, the very zenith of what they sought to accomplish, but not for Aedan. This victory only made him crave more. He put such thoughts aside when he Fergus walked up to him, more thrilled than any brother could be for his accomplishment.

"Well done, Aedan. I don't suppose I need to say how proud of you our family is." Fergus congratulated and hugged his younger brother. "After today, I doubt anyone is going to forget your name."

Aedan smiled a toothy grin at Fergus. "Oh, trust me, big brother, they're going to remember me for so much more. This tournament won't even be a memory compared to everything else I intend to accompish. I swear it."

~Author's Note~

First, I want to give a special thanks to Prince of Petersburg whose own fanfic, "The Grey Knight", served as inspiration to the tournament in this chapter.

I also want to thank my followers, friends and fellow Dragon Age enthusiasts for the kind words and messages that you've left me.

I'm glad to know that there are so many of you who still enjoy Aedan's story.

Hopefully, it won't take me too long to get the next chapter posted, but I make no promises. Still keeping very busy.

Please review and leave me your thoughts.