"People don't always tell the truth when you're polite. You've gotta poke them a bit," –The Iron Bull, Leader of the Bull's Chargers, Ex-Ben-Hassrath, Companion of the Inquisitor, Agent of the Inquisition.

~ Caitlyn's Study, Cousland Castle, Highever, 10th Solace 9:21 Dragon ~

Giles, Lileas knew with certainty, will never let me forget this.

Rosina, Lileas added as she felt her sister's burning gaze directed to the side of her head as she stayed beside her own Lady, was going to scold me heavily the moment she's released from Lady Caitlyn's side.

Nan, Lileas had known the moment the elder woman arrived, taken one long look at the two Qunari in the room, at the way that Kenna had decided to use Asaaranda's lap as a pillow—after taking several sips from the enchanted flask that Lady Caitlyn had insisted she kept on her and filled, and ignoring the almost squawked protests—and was napping as Lady Caitlyn and Asaara Adaar hashed out details to be put in writing, before settling her unimpressed dark gaze on where Lileas was sat on the rug by the divan and quietly arranging the books that Lady Caitlyn was allowing Asaaranda to borrow as Fergus hesitantly informed the old nanny the basics of the Situation (it definitely need the capital letter at the beginning) and that Asaara would be now living with them before he scampered to inform his parents, dearly wanted to tan both Kenna's and my bottoms red for this.

However, they hadn't been there, hadn't seen the way that Kenna had stilled, and her head snapped to follow the two Qunari with her gaze distance in a way that told Lileas she was seeing something else—somewhen else.

They hadn't seen the play of emotions that played across her face—surprise, affection, pure determination—and Lileas had barely realised where Kenna was staring before she was striding off with her jaw set and chin tilted stubbornly without even waiting.

Kenna hadn't even hesitated, had wrapped her hand around one thick grey wrist to the complete shock of Asaaranda, before she had turned to who could only be Asaaranda's mother with a look of blazing determination—the same look she had worn when she had strode into her father's study with Lileas' wrist in her grasp and declared that Lileas was going to be her lady-in-waiting, a look that dared her father to deny her—and declared in a firm voice and blunt tone just as Lileas arrived;

"I'm kidnapping them,"

Lileas would swear that her heart stopped as Asaaranda burst into offended protests and she only felt like she could breathe when Asaara Adaar took one look at Kenna—brightly blazing with determination, like the sun was trapped under her skin, her mismatched eyes flaring with all the power of the seas that they resembled, copper locks glinting like fire under the sun and chin tilted in stubborn defiance, a silent dare to deny her—and had laughed, a burst of loud and bright laughter that cut off her child's protests.

"Alright, Little Lady Spitfire, impress me," Asaara had almost purred, teeth barred in a wicked grin, "tell me why I should entrust my Thunderstorm to you."

And of course, Kenna did.

Because that was what she did, she spoke with firm conviction, with the strength of will to bend world to hers if it tried to defy her, tried to harm her own.

(One day, Kenna Cousland would make the world shake in her wake.

One day, when she raised her sword to fight and a thousand swords would raise to join her.

One day, when she spoke, people would listen, and her Will would be done.

One day, Kenna will look into the face of a would-be god, and she would dare him to make her kneel, she would defy him and his plans, and she would smile—barring teeth in a defiant and blood-thirsty grin, eyes filled with the untameable force of the sea, with copper locks burning like fire, left hand out-stretched and burning with power, a silent dare in the tilt of her chin as she planted herself firmly.

One day, Kenna Cousland would be known as a fighter of monsters, a slayer of would-be gods, a Herald of change.)

She spoke of a home, of learning to heal instead of just kill, of being hers and the protection she would freely share, she spoke of belonging, of safety, and Asaara Adaar listened and questioned and grinned as Kenna didn't falter, wouldn't falter when it came to providing for her own, and Asaaranda only looked half-tempted to throw Kenna off them as she spoke more, as she kept one hand wrapped tightly and protectively and possessively around their wrist in a familiar gesture—the gesture she had first used on Lileas, the gesture that was Lileas' first—and not protesting as Kenna dragged them back the Castle.

"What the—shit," Asaaranda cut themselves off as a burst of coppery iron infects her nose with its unmistakeable scent and Lileas' head jerks up as Kenna sat up, gasping for air and blood drippling down from her mouth, eyes wide and moist as she blinked and coughed on bloody salvia.

Lileas was there with a handkerchief to press against her bloody lips, knees digging harshly into the rather thin rug, Asaaranda assisting her by holding Kenna still as Lileas reached up and pressed firmly with the cloth.

"Kenna!" Lady Caitlyn's voice went high with worry and there was a thump as Alouette dropped her lute in surprise, but Lileas doesn't look away from Kenna. "Rosina, the red tin, Alouette, water."

Kenna who was pale, Kenna who had bitten through her lip, Kenna who was shaking as she breathed through her nose, Kenna whose gaze was distance and not there, Kenna who didn't seem to realise that bloody salvia would be dripping down her chin if Lileas wasn't there with a handkerchief to ruin with blood.

Suddenly, Lady Caitlyn was there next to her, skirts spreading around her as she knelt before the divan and reached out with gentle hands.

"Kenna?" Lady Caitlyn's voice was gentle in a way that she only used for her sister, and Kenna blinked at her, some awareness coming back in her gaze, a stray tear sliding down the curve of her cheek. "There you are," the smile that curls Lady Caitlyn's lips was small but encouraging. "I need you to rinse your mouth out, okay? Can you do that? Blink once for yes, and twice for no."

Kenna blinked once as Alouette handed the mug to Lady Caitlyn before the young bard stepped back with a hint of a frown and watchful dark eyes while Lileas removed the handkerchief so Lady Caitlyn could guide Kenna's shaking hands in holding the mug and rinsing out the blood from her mouth.

"Lileas," Rosina called softly, she glanced over her shoulder to see Rosina holding a small tin with a painted red top and nodded in understanding under her sister's look.

The two sisters switched positions as Kenna spat out bloody water back into the mug with a grimace as Rosina unscrewed the top of the tin to reveal a dark red paste.

"Open your mouth," Lady Caitlyn ordered, and Kenna did, her bottom lip was torn, and blood lingered on her teeth, and Lady Caitlyn began to dab the dark red paste on the still weeping lip. "This will clot your blood, it will help it heal faster."

"Really?" Asaaranda looked very interest, any hints of panic gone from their angular face, and peered over Kenna's shoulder so they could look at the small tin. "Can you teach me to make that?"

"I can teach you some things," a ghost of a smile curled at Lady Caitlyn's lips, "but I'm going to arrange for other teachers that can focus solely on you and teach you all they can, Asaaranda."

Lady Caitlyn leaned back, satisfied by what she had done, and Alouette was there to hand her a damp handkerchief to clean off her hands.

"Don't go licking it," Lady Caitlyn told her sister firmly, "it'll taste horrible and it needs time to work."

"What was that?" Asaara Adaar asked, quicksilver eyes sharp as she watched.

"My sister unfortunately suffers from night-terrors," Lady Caitlyn said as Alouette reached out to help her up, a calm mask and smile settling on her face though her eyes were still tight with worry. "It is why one of the first things that I would like Asaaranda to learn is a special tea of my own making that aids in her sleeping."

"The tea she drunk before she used my kid as a pillow?" Asaara questioned and Lady Caitlyn nodded. "How worse are they without the tea?"

"Let's just say that some Templars had to come and assure my parents that I wasn't a mage," Kenna said dryly as she reached out for Lileas.

Lileas stuffed the handkerchief in one pocket before taking Kenna's hands and allowing the noble girl to pull her on to the divan and curl around her, drawing comfort through physical touch.

A wince passed through Asaaranda and a shade of sympathy softened Asaara's quicksilver eyes.

"Yeah, Thunderstorm will learn that tea, right?" Asaara stated more than asked and Asaaranda nodded, a bit grumpily—they still weren't happy about their 'kidnapping'.

The scolding that Kenna got because of her 'kidnapping' Situation—from Father, Mother, Nan and Cait—was something that should be written down in the history books in Fergus' opinion—Fergus had no doubt that Kenna would end up with a whole book for herself by the time she died and her life as a Cousland was chronicled for future generations to enjoy and marvel over.

He was also pretty sure that the underlying message—that kidnapping was bad and no way acceptable—wouldn't stick, despite the hundreds of lines Kenna was assigned to write to sum that up—Lileas also had lines as she had allowed the Situation to come about that once again called Kenna her 'foolish Lady'—because Kenna had gotten what she wanted.

Asaaranda was going to stay with them—after days of Asaara Adaar going over terms and such with Father and Cait until it was all in writing just what Asaaranda would expect as a member of Kenna's personal household.

They had been given their own room beside Davia, was dressed in new clothes all in Kenna's colours—where it was found how that though Asaaranda was physically a boy, they didn't consider themselves one nor did they consider themselves a girl, they were just Asaaranda, and Maker have mercy on anyone that tried to give Asaaranda crap about their gender because then they had to deal with Kenna in all her fiery glory.

(Ser Kenneth had reportedly almost shed a tear in pride when Kenna got through a somewhat dense squire that didn't just stop at insults towards Asaaranda, but had insulted Kenna by calling her a silly little girl trying to act like a man during a spar, Kenna ended up kicking him in the balls so hard that a healer had to be called and had walked away with the biting comment of 'let's see how the silly little boy does trying to act like a woman')

And now Asaaranda wore a golden songbird clutching a laurel in its talons earring that hung from their left earlobe—the same symbol as the studs that Kenna wore, the same as what Lileas wore as a necklace, that Giles wore pinned to the collar of his new jacket, that the Little Birds wore, an unsubtle claim that boiled down to Kenna saying 'mine'.

("She's going to end up kidnapping someone else," Fergus informed Oriana during lunch one day as he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"At least she is a very polite kidnapper, si?" Oriana commented wryly, a spark of humour in her dark eyes as she watched Fergus groan.

"This is our fault," Fergus bemoaned, "Cait and I didn't teach her that being so damn possessive over people were wrong—we reinforced the idea that it was normal."

"You best make sure our child doesn't turn out as unruly as your first," Oriana decided, and Fergus spluttered out the drink he had been sipping making Oriana look at him in great amusement as she raised a single eyebrow. "Come now, you don't honestly think I am not going to marry you after you fell so prettily for me?"

Fergus spluttered for a second time, red faced, to Oriana's gleeful laugh—he didn't even get a chance to protest that Kenna wasn't his kid, though he was certain that if he said that then Oriana would look at him with fond pity at his 'obviously sad attempt at lying' as she had in the past.)

Fergus had ended up writing a lengthy letter filled with whole Situation, the almost catlike unrepentance that Kenna showed, how Asaaranda had decided they didn't mind the whole kidnap thing much as soon as Cait's surgeon acquaintance—a Lawrence Bellerose, who had graduated from the University of Orlais, that decried humourism as a load of bull—arrived with dozens upon dozens of detailed diagrams (that almost made Fergus squirm just to look at them, because they were too damn detailed), books and tools to aid in his teaching of Asaaranda on everything a proper surgeon should know, and sent it off to Bran in Ostwick.

Almost two weeks later a bird arrived with his response.

"Ha!"

The passive-aggressive petty little shit.

Fine, fine, Bran wanted to be petty? Well, Fergus could be petty too.

When Bran came back with his questions, well, Fergus would answer them, and he would prove Kenna's….gift by letting him know that he knew that Bran was a sword-swallower.

(Fergus had never really forgiven Bran for being the cause behind four-year-old Kenna's questions—demanding too much detail for his comfort—about the different types of love there was and her attempts to understand how they expressed themselves physically, and he had never really forgiven Cait for watching him squirm with barely hidden hilarity as Kenna continued to ask questions starting with why or how and stubbornly refusing to listen to his pleas that she would learn or understand when she was older.)

~ War Room, Lowever, 25th Solace 9:21 Dragon ~

Despite the fact that the Alienage elves had made Lowever their home for the next decade or so, Lowever was now being considered Kenna's.

It was Kenna's Little Birds that used the Training Hall and the armoury near it.

It was Kenna's Giles that had taken over one of the rooms near said area and turned it into his own office—it had a large map of Lowever (that he had drawn himself) hanging behind his desk (he had yet to enlighten Kenna as to where he got all the furniture in his office from).

It was Kenna's Little Birds that found the room containing the long neglected 'garden'—a room that was closest to the surface and using a series of mirrors on pulleys and such was able to bring the sun down below and onto the long patch of earth (apparently how Orzammar wasn't solely reliant on trade with the surface to feed their people), that had an enchanted well and runes etched into the walls to keep the temperature level—and took it over to plant their own private collection of herbs and such for their own personal use under the watchful gaze of Herbalist Jolecia—who Kenna had hired to teach them and was rather pleased that she could teach them how to tend to their own plants as well as to make salves and such from them.

It was Kenna's Lileas that had taken control of one of the more isolated rooms where she took private lessons with Mirwen—if any of the elves wondered about what those lessons were, if any of the Little Birds figured out what those lessons were for, none of them said anything.

While Lawrence Bellerose had been hired by Cait, it was for Kenna's Asaaranda and thus the rooms he had claimed to teach them—a morgue enchanted by runes to keep it cool, a work room with a stone table and a grate in the floor for the blood to be washed down, a study filled with books and a room that would later be turned into an infirmary when Surgeon Bellerose was happy with Asaaranda's understanding of the body's working and was ready to move on to teaching them how to treat the living (he was a big believer on learning how the body worked before trying to fix it)—were still considered as hers.

So, perhaps considering that, it wasn't that surprising that Kenna had found herself sprawled on the table in what she considered the War Room as she thought.

She needed time to herself, time away, and where better to go then somewhere that was hers?

Where Giles was shut up in his office doing Maker knows what, where Lileas was attending her private lessons with Mirwen, where Asaaranda was probably watching Surgeon Bellerose cut into some recently deceased prisoner that had been kindly donated to him.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost see pieces of her dreams—the future—that centred in this room, unfold around her.

Fergus—older and weary—standing with his hands braced on the table as he looked at the maps of Highever and its surrounding area, a pink scar running from his temple into his thicker beard, grief putting lines on his face and an air of responsibility attempting push down his strong shoulders though he refused to buckle under the pressure.

Ser Morgan standing before the table, arms folded behind her back, a frown pulling on her lips and stress and grief lined her face, a bloodied badge pinned to her tabard that marked her as the new Commander of the Highever Forces.

Giles leaning his hip against the table, sharp pale eyes reading several reports that made him either smirk or frown as plans and plots began to take shape inside his mind.

Art Trevelyan standing across from Ser Morgan, frown on his face as he carefully placed the figures of ships along the sea, showing and plotting out the sea-battles the Navy of Highever and reinforcements from the Storm Coast was engaging in—Kenna almost shivered as she almost felt a phantom hand move through her to move each figure, a feeling that was in her head and not real.

Kenna opened her eyes and stared up at the stone ceiling, mentally pushing away the figures of the future, they weren't really helping.

Kenna had a power, a power that she didn't totally understand, a power she really hadn't tried to understand.

Yes, she saw the future in her dreams, but she also sometimes just knew things and that was without going into the whole thing of seeing phantoms of some peoples' future-selves, or how her dreams had changed to include not just her own future thoughts but also the subject of the dreams feelings and basic thoughts.

(corruption in his blood, it burned, it was getting worse, he wanted to claw at his skin, claw until tainted blood was gone from his body.)

(A bloody hand placed on a keystone, lyrium singing as it powered up with blue and red light, he waited patiently for them to come, to try and collar him, to turn him into their pet Tranquil.)

(How dare he, a repeated chant in her mind filled with rage that ran both hot and cold as she stood before the monster as her cousin—sister—wept softly with his bloody seed trailing down her legs.)

And that little change had terrified her, the sudden change without warning.

The seeing future-phantoms, had a warning, a click in her mind, a key opening a lock, but she had no warning when it came to her dreams.

She was still getting used to the change, to knowing more on a different level then just seeing.

Part of Kenna was afraid, but she firmly squashed that fear, stubbornly forced it down, because she was Kenna bloody Cousland and she wouldn't lose herself to her own power, her own 'gift'.

Kenna frowned up at the ceiling.

She needed to learn more about her power, had to train it, and she would have to relay mostly on herself as her power was rather unique and there was no one that could teach her all the ins and outs like Mirwen could with Lileas—even if she liked seeing what Kenna and Lileas thought up themselves which was completely different to things she was taught.

The power was part of her, as part of her as magic was part of Lileas, so that surely meant that she could feel it if she tried like Lileas could internally reach out for the wild warmth of her magic.

Perhaps if she could feel it, touch it as it were, then that could help her understand it more, right?

Kenna nodded mostly to herself as she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly as she tried to focus, tried to search for something she wasn't sure was there or like, but she was going to try.