Morning sunlight pierces through sheer curtains and assaults your eyes, forcing you up. You curse your curtains and eyelids for not being enough to keep you asleep. Once you wake up, your duties begin.
As daughter to Teyrn Bryce Cousland, you live a rich and privileged life, but also one of expectations and tasks. You are not an ordinary young noble, but a warrioress and general of Highever.
Your status as a teyrn's daughter and a general makes the topic of your marriage options complicated. Would your husband gain control of your army, or would he be emasculated by your power and standing?
Though your parents (particularly your mother) spend far too much time on that subject for your liking, you refuse to let it ruin a beautiful sunny morning for you.
What does dampen your spirit is knowing you have to see off your brother Fergus today, as he leads an advance force against the darkspawn that has recently made itself a problem of Highever's. It upsets you that your older brother goes alone and leaves you hear, but your father has made it clear that he expects you to stay put in the city and defend the garrison, because he leaves the day after.
Your father is a capable and proven military leader, but he is your father, and naturally, you worry.
Once dressed in an ivy green dress with gold piping running the length of the full sleeves, fasten a leather belt with a long dagger around your waist. You have no military duties this day, but you never leave yourself wholly unarmed.
You check yourself in the tall mirror next to a wardrobe to make sure your presentation matches your station. You straighten your back and roll your shoulders before cracking your neck.
Dark brown, almost black hair is impeccably braided. Sharp, intelligent green eyes stare back at you. You give yourself a confident smile and see yourself out.
You could have a retinue of handmaidens see to your appearance, but your military service has made you self-efficent beyond compare to any other nobility of the same sex.
You exit your bed chamber and head out to see about your day, meeting with your father being the first thing on the list.
With a short walk to the main hall, you find your father happily chatting with a deep yet nasally voice you've known since you were knee high.
You approach your father's side and curtsey deeply to him and Arl Rendon Howe.
"Oh, there you are, my daughter," your father chuckles warmly. "It is good you sought me out this morning, though it may be nearly noon."
You know well enough to take the tongue-in-cheek jab.
"Pardon my late arrival, Father," you say solemnly, bowing deeply, an arm over your chest. "Last night's scouting ran later than expected," you say truthfully.
"No matter, Pup," your father says, his smile not dimming. "I'm sure you remember Arl Howe?" he asks, knowing well that you do.
"Of course, Father!" you say enthusiastically, bowing to the man who is shorter than your father by a head. "I have heard so many war stories about you two that I would feel I knew him had I not met him," you smile.
"How I forget the courtly tongue your daughter has, Bryce!" Howe says, laughing lightly. "Had I known you were to be in court, I would have brought my son, Thomas. He remembers you fondly from your last meeting."
"I would have liked to see Thomas again very much," you say, an honest smile on your face. Thomas is a bright young man, he seems a decent fellow. It would also be a very smart match for you, you note. You realize if you do not choose a sutor yourself soon, your mother surely will.
"Are your men ready, Rendon?" your father asks. "Tomorrow may be the beginning of the last time we get to ride out together for glorious combat."
Howe chuckles at your father's old sentiments. "I am here, but I am afraid my main force shall not be here until the next day."
"I suppose that is well enough. I will send my son, Fergus, ahead with a small detachment to scout ahead," your father says.
Another figure enters the great a hall; a bear of a man with long black hair and well kept beard. He wears a longsword and dagger, and is adorned in rich blue, and a steel cuirass bearing griffons.
"Ah, Duncan!" your father greets the man loudly.
"Good Teyrn Cousland," the man responds with a wise voice and a deep bow.
"How have the Wardens settled?" your father asks.
"The quarters are most gracious, and more than favorable, good Teyrn," the man called Duncan says. "I see you have another guest. Perhaps I shall discuss recruitment at another time with you," he suggests.
"Recruitment?" you ask, your eyes widening, much to your father's visible displeasure.
"Yes, Lady Elissa," Duncan confirms. "This darkspawn threat looms over all of The dad, not simply Highever and Fereldan. For the Grey Wardens to be of bed use, we need to increase our ranks," the man explains.
His eyes are calculating as they look you over.
"Perhaps Sir Gilmore could do the order proud," your father suggests, and your heart sinks. You have heard more than a few stories about this hallowed order of legendary warriors.
"I was thinking your daughter would make a more than formidable Warden," Duncan parries, meeting your father's glaring eye again.
Your heart leaps and you have to close your mouth to stop it from making an escape.
"I understand the gravity of this blight, if indeed that is what is before us, but I will not sacrifice my daughter to it," your father says firmly.
"Good Teyrn Cousland, you would not be the first nor the last father to sacrifice a child," Duncan says softly. "I would not suggest it did I not think it a worthy and necessary sacrifice."
"I will not forfeit my daughter and that is final. We will speak of who may join your order, but Elissa is not among them."
You only now notice that somewhere during the exchange, Arl Howe had silently taken leave. Without even an utterance of an excusal, you find this odd, almost suspicious.
"Father, Master Warden," you curtsey as you explain that you must find Fergus and give him updates.
"Please, call me Duncan," the massive warrior corrects you with a gentle, almost fatherly tone.
You level a look at him, trying to tell him somehow that you wish to discuss the Wardens further.
He nods and says, "another time, Lady Elissa."
Knowing you have Duncan's ear, you head off to find your brother Fergus.
Fergus is in his chambers with his wife and son. You eavesdrop for only a moment, and hear Oriana, your sister-in-law, lamenting that Fergus has to go.
"Do not fret, dear. I promise you that I will return. I'll do one better; I'll return victorious," he laughs, and you make your entrance.
"I don't know how you plan to do that without Elissa the Magnificent by your side." You cannot get through your own joke without cracking a smile.
"Elissa the Magnificent!" your brother jokes back, bowing low, and deciding to be more theatrical by dropping to a knee.
"Rise, peasant, and know that Elissa loves you," you tell him, grinning madly.
Your brother rises with a laugh, and you turn to see his dear wife smiling, but you can't miss the tears pricking the sides of her reddened eyes.
"At least I will have you, Elissa, to keep me from going mad while my dear Fergus is away."
"He will not be gone long," your father says, joining you all. "Victory will not take long," he says, your mother with him as well.
"With the Couslands leading the charge next to King Cailin and the Grey Wardens, how could victory be far from grasp?" Fergus asks, only half joking, you suspect.
"How indeed," your father responds. "Did you give him his orders, Pup?" your father asks you.
"How could I?" you scoff. "Had I known you were on my heels, Papa, I would have let you tell Fergus the Bold, and I would have stayed in bed," you joke.
Your father laughs. "Fergus the Bold, aye?"
"Fergus the Bold and Elissa the Magnificent. Our war path shall be legendary and burned into the anals of history!" Fergus bellows, pointing a large hand at his laughing son, Orin.
"You two would be quite the pair, but Elissa has duties at home, I'm afraid," your father says, his head dropping low.
"Pardon me, Papa, but did you say 'at home?'" you ask in disbelief. "But…"
"I know you wanted to accompany your brother and I, but we need a Cousland at home to defend Highever should something happen," your father explains. You know this to be the way things are, but it does nothing to lessen the sting of being left at home while your father and brother prepare to shower themselves in glory.
"I understand," you say, dropping your head in submission to your duty. "My tasks will be done dutifully, Papa," you assure him, and you can feel his warm smile though you can't bring yourself to look into his eyes.
"That's my pup," he says to you, and then turns to your brother. "Fergus, you will be leaving this evening with a forward detachment to clear the road for the main force. The darkspawn have been amassing to the South and I do not want us to lose serious men before we reach Ostagar."
"Understood, Father," Fergus accepts, and bows his head low. He straightens again and asks, "What of the Arl's men? Will they be here in time to march?"
"Renden is here with a small force, but his main body will be here tomorrow," your father explains, and Fergus shakes his head.
"Of course. Maybe they'll catch up by the time we're done on the field."
"Well, I suppose we should call it an evening. Son, I am sure you desire some last moments with your wife and son before you depart. You should get some rest as well, Pup," he says to you.
You nod in agreement and wait for your parents to depart before you throw your arms around Fergus's neck and hug him tightly. "Be safe, brother, and come back safe. I'll see you soon."
"Worry not, Elissa. There has never been a darkspawn who could best me," he says, and you pray to the Maker that he is right.
Late into the night, your dreams are torn from you by raised voices and what sounds like the distant battle.
You come fully to and realize it is real, and not just your dream. Your beloved Mabari war dog, Merac, named after the last king, is growling and scratching at your door.
You wordlessly pull your boots on and dress into your dress. You curse the fact that you do not keep your armor in your bed chambers, but you wouldn't have to in most cases.
If Highever were ever attacked, surely the guards would have rang the warning bell.
Something doesn't sit right in your gut, so you do wrap your sword belt around yourself and grab your dagger as well.
You open your door to see your mother of all people, armed with a short bow and in her old leather studded armor engaged in a small fight with her retinue of bodyguards against who look like… Arl Howe's men?
You waste no time with idle questions, instead drawing your sword and dagger and fighting your way through Howe's men until you reach your mother's side.
"Darling!" your mother shouts over the din. "Thank the Maker you're alive!"
"What in Andraste's name is happening, you ask as you easily dispatch another soul.
"It's Howe's men!" she answers.
"I can see that," you chuckle as you dodge a strike. "Why would he betray Father?" you wonder aloud.
One of your mother's guards kills the last of Howe's men in this section of the chambers, and finally it's quiet, at least here.
"I have no idea, but we must find him. He never came to bed."
"I think he was with Howe," you dare to guess.
"We must find him," your mother says.
"Of course. We should collect Orena and Orin first," you suggest.
"Yes! Hopefully they stayed hidden in their quarters," your mother says, and you follow her across the short courtyard to Fergus's quarters.
You stop when you see the door slightly ajar. "No," you whisper. You try to shout but it only comes as a strangled wheeze. You fall to your knees as your mother does what she knows she has to.
She comes out a moment later, her face pale and grey, her mouth agape. She clamps her jaw shut when she sees you.
You see your mother's chin trembling, but she will not allow herself to break, not now.
"Elissa, we must go," she whispers.
You nod to acknowledge her command, but your body protests the idea of standing again.
"Elissa, now!" she barks.
"My lady, we must go or surely we will all be killed," a guard of your mother tells you, helping you to your feet.
"The armory is very near. You must get into your armor, get your shield, and then we must be away from here and to your father," your mother instructs sternly.
With the help of the guard, you regain your feet and your legs. You have to move at a considerable gait to keep up with your mother.
All around you, you can hear Highever screaming and fighting for it's life. By the sounds of it, Highever will not last the night.
Once encased in studded leather like your mother, you feel the proper warrioress that you are, and less the soft, exposed girl.
"Let's go find Father," you say as you grab a round shield by it's firm center grip.
You and your mother quickly move through the streets, avoiding detection as much as possible, but not shying away from slaying Howe's traitorous bastards where it's practical.
You hope to sneak through the kitchen and then to the great hall.
With the hope of taking anyone in the kitchen by surprise, one of your soldiers kicks the door open and you rush in, shield protecting your head and sword ready to strike.
You lower your guard as your eyes take in the absolute slaughter you see before you. Servants and cooks hands are cut to pieces with no sign of remorse. The elven servants, you notice, have had their ears removed, and you can only pray to Andraste that it was postmortem.
At the back of the kitchen is dear sweet Nan herself. Her dead eyes are open, gazing at you but seeing nothing.
Nan was always so sweet to you, but you wish she would have treated the Elf servants with more respect and humanity. They were hardworking and diligent, but Nan could never see past their size and the points of their ears.
Despite Nan's shortsighted views, you loved her, and another piece of you withers as you close her eyes for her. You kiss her forehead, steel yourself as much as you can, and continue to lead your small party through the kitchen.
On the other side you go, into a mess hall for servants and soldiers, but it ran on a rotating schedule so there wasn't overlap between the two groups.
The mess has seen no bloodshed, and looks relatively untouched. Howe's men must have gone through with the purpose of slaying those who worked late to prepare the early breakfast for the soldiers before they marched.
Out of the dining area and through a door you go to the great hall, where you can hear thunderous pounding but not the sound of battle.
With sword drawn, you rush in to find Sir Gilmore watching over his men at arms as they attempt to keep the massive wooden doors shut.
"Hold fast, men! We must keep them out until Teyrn Cousland is safe!" Sir Gilmore ordered. "Lady Elissa, you yet live!" he said as he saw your approach.
"Sir Gilmore, it does me well to see you again," you say as you and your mother join him at the head of the hall. "You say my father lives?" you have to know.
"He does," sir Gilmore confirms. "Howe's attack was swift and brutal. You're father had no time to prepare, but he helped us hold the great hall. He took a blade, but he lives."
"Bryce is alive? Where is he?" your mother demands. "Where is he? I must go to him." your mother demands.
"He's in the larder, resting. If Howe's troops get through us, the Teyrn has no hope, I'm afraid," Sir Gilmore said grimly.
You look at Sir Gilmore's small force, and see your own gathered troops waiting for instruction.
You chew your lip, resting your hand on the pommel of your longsword. "Sir Gilmore, stand here with me," you order as you watch your mother fly after your father. "We need to buy my parents time," you say as you draw your sword.
"What are you thinking, my lady?" Gimore asks, standing beside you and drawing his sword as well.
"Men of Highever, on my orders, open the gate, and when you do, remember you are sons of Andraste and that we live by a simple code… Justice and temperance."
Your men and most of Sir Gilmore's men at arms form a defensive half-circle. Your formation and the hall will negate any numbers advantage Howe's men outside could hope to have.
"Open!" you shout, and Gilmore's men release the door, running to the far sides.
Howe's men do as you hope, fanning out and throwing themselves against your strong shield formation. Your men hold easily as the first waive dashes itself against you.
From the same way you entered, you hear the voice of Duncan, rising above the clamor.
"Grey Wardens, to the lady!" he shouts as his small troop surges forward, joining your lines and pushing through at the center.
The new momentum and rally inspired by Duncan and yourself fighting together is enough to drive Howe's men back for now.
Duncan assesses the situation and asks "are you hurt, Lady Elissa?"
"I am fine," you respond, because physically you are, and you know that's what he's asking about. You assume he has seen the atrocities you have as well.
"Grey Warden, how is it that you can pick a side in this fray?" Sir Gilmore asks, joining you two.
"Arl Howe's men attacked us, which was a mistake. I take it they did not intend on the Wardens being here. We are loose ends to their betrayal," Duncan explains. "Lady Elissa, you must come with me now. We need to remove you from this place, lest you will be slain. "Howe has many men, as well as mercenaries with him."
"Go, my lady. My men and I will buy you time. Tell the king what has befallen Highever," Sir Gilmore requests and draws his sword again as the next approaching wave is heard coming up the cobbled streets.
"We must go. Now," Duncan all but orders. Stunned beyond response, your eyes stay rooted to Sir Gilmore as Howe's men dash themselves yet again on Highever shields. You are dragged by your arm into the larder, where Sir Gilmore said your father is.
When you arrive, your mother is on her backside, stroking your father's hair. He is void of life, and you are left without a father.
You are beyond feeling emotion as your mother screams, entirely overcome. Your father, her husband and Lord lays dead on her lap.
"I am sorry for what I am about to do, my dear daughter, but your father awaits me to be by his side again," she says, and gently lays your father on the stone floor.
"My lady, Bryce would want you to be safe, to carry on for him," Duncan says, attempting to bring your mother's senses back.
She shakes her head, refusing. "I care not. I only desire to quench how's thirst until I am as lifeless as Bryce." Your mother wraps you in a nearly bone crushing hug, kisses your sweating forehead, and rushes out, screaming like Andraste on the pyre.
"Your mother has chosen her fate and as noble as it is, Elissa, your fate is not hers," Duncan tells you in a firm, slow voice.
Nothing leaves your throat, and your tired, bloodshot eyes slowly move to find Duncan's sharp gaze. You nod and try to speak, but you find yourself mute.
"Elissa, there is nothing you can do here. You can, however, join the Wardens and save as many as you can from facing carnage and destruction worse than this from the claws and gnashing teeth of the Darkspawn. I can only save you from this if you join us."
You nod slowly, your eyes tracking back to the door that you entered from. They then drag to your father's body. Silent tears effortlessly roll down your cheeks.
"Elissa, it is time we depart this place."
The party of Grey Wardens do not stop and make camp until early morning. The entire distance, you say no words, and the Wardens ask you to say nothing.
"We do not always travel through the night and rest during the day. We thought it best to put some distance between us and Highever, however," he explains as he lays out a sleeping roll for you.
You don't respond, and he doesn't seem to expect you to.
"This is the only spare roll we had, I am afraid," he says. "It has seen many dangers with me, and it will see you well until we reach Ostagar, my lady."
You slowly lift your head that weighs more than you thought possible. Your eyes follow the man as he sits by a growing fire next to a companion.
You know you won't sleep, but you know you need to. You also yearn for the warmth of the fire and to hear mens' voices, if for nothing more than to chase away the feeling of utter loneliness.
You survey the hardened Wardens as they talk amongst themselves quietly. They seem a serious, somber group, but perhaps it is only the night's events that quiet them, or possibly your presents on the edge of the camp.
Sheer exhaustion had forced you to sleep, and you wish you hadn't, for the sleep was more draining than being wakeful could have been. Your sleep was full of terrors, and you are not shocked to find a thin sheen of sweat on your body.
"My lady, it is good that you wake," Duncan says, approaching you with a rye biscuit and a wooden bowl containing oatmeal, berries, and chunks of apple. "I know your stomach pains you now, and the thought of putting anything in it churns it further, but you must eat something. The king would render my head from my shoulders himself if I brought him a half-starved Cousland," the warrior jokes, but there is no mirth in his voice.
You take the bowl and nod briefly, taking the bone spoon from his other hand. He watches you for only a moment, and when he sees you ask or motion for nothing, he takes his leave.
You forced yourself to eat the oatmeal because it was hot, and you did need something in you, but you couldn't stomach the rye biscuit.
The rest of the road to Ostagar is completely silent, and you arrive with no delays.
You are brought out of your morose state by seeing the king of Fereldan, Cailin himself, with a retinue of elite guards behind him.
"Hail Duncan and Grey Wardens!" the king shouts as you approach.
"Your majesty, I did not…"
"What? You did not expect a royal welcome?" Cailin cut off Duncan with a boyish laugh. "Heroes fit for legends deserve no less than a royal welcome," the blond man said, ushering your party forward.
"I recognize you,'' Cailin says, pointing a large, gauntleted finger. "You are Bryce Cousland's daughter."
"You are correct, your majesty," you confirm with a deep bow. "Well met, my king."
"You inspire me, Lady Elissa," he marvels. "Giving up land and title, wealth and name to pick up the Grey mantle. You are sacrifice embodied! Tell me, how is your father? Does he arrive soon? Your brother Fergus has already."
Your eyes lift up to the king's and your heart swells. "Fergus is here? Alive?" you ask, your voice still rough but coming back now.
"Why yes, he is out with a scouting party as we speak. He should not be back after too long."
"This is good news indeed," Duncan agrees. "Young Fergus will need to be protected, your majesty," he informs the king.
"Why? What are you talking about?" Kaillen asks, his brow furrowed.
"My Lord… my father has been killed, and Fergus is the new Teyrn of Highever," you say, trying to keep yourself composed in the face of the king.
"Bryce slain? How?"
"He was deceived, and then betrayed by Arl Rendon Howe, your Majesty. Bryce is slain; I saw him myself. Highever has fallen."
"This is… well this news is…." You can see the king clench his jaw, and turn his hands into tightly held fists. Rage flashes like a fire behind his eyes, and suddenly as it came, it extinguishes. "We will deal with it accordingly after the battle. Duncan, will you please join me in council?"
"Of course, your majesty," Duncan says with a bow. You bow as well as the king takes his leave.
"While I meet with the king, I need you to go find a young Warden by the name of Alistair. He should be around the mage encampment preparing for your Joining. Do seek him out, will you?"
"Of course," you say, trying to keep a hold on your tongue now that it has returned to you so far.
"I will do my best to ensure that the king sees the full scope of the Darkspawn threat. If I had my say, we would wait for the Wardens of Orlais, but that does not seem likely to happen at this time." Duncan pauses and sighs. "Rest assured, Lady Elissa, we will see justice for your father. Now, to Alistair."
