CHAPTER 2

..x..

Speaking quietly, Teyrn Bryce and Teyrna Eleanor stood in the spacious main hall of Highever castle, next to the great fireplace filling the chamber with its warmth. The cold walls around them were lined with steel sets of armor as portraits of the teyrn and his family were also placed above them. Banners with the Cousland heraldry of two green willow branches meeting at the stems hung from above as they swayed with the breeze flowing from the windows, their rich indigo blue brightening with the flicker of torches.

A nobleman stood before them, clad in a purple tunic trimmed in gold. Short, white hair slicked to one side.

"You're saying your men are delayed?" Bryce turned away from their hearth to cast an incredulous stare upon his long-time friend.

"But you were to set out together. Being late to the king's call for aid is unacceptable," Eleanor chided in disapproval.

The arl bowed his head at the two, a hand over his chest. "I am terribly sorry, my lord and lady. I fear this is entirely my fault."

Arl Rendon Howe was a man of cool mannerisms and few warm words. His hawkish features rarely showed emotions, aside from the arrogance he often displayed. Yet still, he was held in high regard by Bryce, having fought many battles alongside him. Most thirty years ago, during Ferelden's rebellion against a tyrant who once usurped their country's throne.

"No, no. It's quite all right. This war against the darkspawn has us all scrambling," Bryce assured him, calmly clasping his hands behind his back. "I will send my son with my men ahead of me. You and I can ride to battle first thing in the morning, just like the old days."

"Yes…" Howe held a shadow of a smile, barely visible. "Only then we fought against Orlesians, not monsters."

"At least the smell will be the same," he chuckled.

"Maker, I cannot stand wars…" An anxious Eleanor reached for her husband's hand, lightly squeezing it. "My stomach is twisted into knots over you and Fergus leaving."

"I know…" He carefully brought her knuckles to his lips for a soft kiss. "But do not worry love. We will be back before you know it."

His words, however, didn't do much to ease her fears.

The sound of clanking armor interrupted their conversation as one of their soldiers made the long way through the hall. He came to a stop a few steps before them, bending at the waist before speaking in a solemn voice. "Your Lordship, the guest you expected has arrived."

Bryce gave him a nod. "Good. Show him in, please."

They watched the guard turn and head back to the gates, opening them once more before two Grey Wardens entered. After a curt bow, their escort led their way across the room and towards the castle's lord. While Bryce awaited them with a wide, friendly smile.

"Duncan! Good to see you again," he greeted while approaching them, reaching out to shake his forearm.

"It is always an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland. It has been some time." Duncan respectfully shook his arm as all warriors did. He politely nodded to the teyrna. "Your Ladyship."

Stiffly, she returned the gesture.

"And who is this young man?" asked Bryce, directing a smile towards his charge.

Duncan placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "This is my apprentice. Alistair. He is accompanying me on my travels."

"A pleasure, your Grace," Alistair paid his respects with a fist to the chest.

"Grey Wardens?" Howe uttered, giving the newcomers a surprised stare. "How... unexpected."

"They arrived on short notice. Is there a problem?" the teyrn questioned, an eyebrow raised.

Howe elegantly rested a hand at his back and lifted his nose. "Of course not, old friend. But guests of this stature demand certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage."

"It is true that we don't frequently have the pleasure of seeing them in person. However, Duncan is a hero and a friend. He is always welcome here."

The elder Warden respectfully bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord."

Bryce faced him once more. "At any rate, I—"

"Father dear!" Everil called, a hint of indignation in her voice as she entered the hall through one of the two doors at the sides, out of her armor and clean of dirt. Dark hair bobbed with her strides as she held up the skirts of a purple velvet dress, approaching them while glaring lightly at the teyrn. "I can't believe you would choose to leave me behind like this. You said I was ready to help you in battle!"

"I have already made my decision, pup. You are needed here," her father asserted sternly.

"But, I—"

"Darling, mind your manners," Eleanor scolded gently and gestured to the others present. "We have guests."

Everil released a huff before first noticing Howe standing nearby. "Hello, Arl Howe. It's good to see you again."

"And you, child. I must say, you have grown into a lovely young woman," he complimented with a subtle nod, unsmiling. "In fact, my son has been asking after you since he last saw you at the king's banquet."

"Ah, yes. Thomas," she uttered wryly, recalling how the man followed her the entire eve, constantly staring at her bosom. "I remember him…"

"Perhaps next time I shall bring him with me. Let the two of you catch up."

Hiding her irritation, Everil forced a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "I'm sorry, ser. But I'm not seeking an arranged marriage, nor am I interested in your son."

The astonishment that befell the arl's smug face at her unexpected response made Alistair stifle a chuckle, only to let out a yelp when Duncan discreetly elbowed his side.

Bryce shook his head and gave Howe a hopeless smile. "You see what I contend with here? You can't tell my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

"Yes. She is a bold one, indeed…" Howe replied stiffly, completely unamused.

Ignoring their comments, Everil regarded the other two guests, intending to greet them, and instead, blinking in slight surprise. "Oh… It's you."

Bryce sent her a quizzical look. "Pup, you have already met the Grey Wardens?"

"Not formally, no," she answered while walking to stand beside him. With a hand on her hip, she smiled pointedly at the younger one, delicate fingers absently fiddling with a golden charm hanging from her neck. "I did happen to run into one of them earlier, however."

"Heh…" Alistair chortled, nervously scratching the back of his head. "You could say that."

"Then allow me to introduce you." Bryce gestured towards the elder one. "This is Duncan, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady." He inclined his head before motioning towards his companion. "This is Alistair. My newest apprentice."

"Uhm…" The young knight cleared his throat and bowed, again with a fist to his chest. "Pleased to meet you, my lady."

"The pleasure is mine." Everil offered him a friendly grin, sensing his nerves. "Welcome to Highever."

He awkwardly returned the smile. "Thanks."

"I was watching from the stands earlier," said Duncan, drawing her gaze to him. "I must say, your skills are substantial."

"Thank you, ser." She dipped her head. "Now, if only I could use them to fight alongside my brother and father…"

"Everil…" Eleanor warned gently.

"I know..." She released a disappointed breath, clasping both hands over her dress. "Not to worry, Mother. Despite my displeasure towards the decision, I will do as Father says."

"That's what I like to hear." Bryce smiled, gently tipping her chin with a curled index finger. "With our soldiers gone, only a token forces will remain to protect the castle, and we must keep the peace in the region. You know what they say happens when the cat is away, yes?"

"Yes, Father. I will do my best," Everil pledged confidently. There was no denying she still wanted to go to battle with them. To make a difference rather than be cooped up in the castle waiting for them to return. But the task he was giving her wasn't one to be taken lightly, either. This would be the first time she would be granted this much responsibility.

"I know you will, my dear." Bryce's smile broadened before he regarded his wife. "At any rate, I have some business to discuss with Duncan here. You two should head upstairs and inform Fergus he is to leave ahead of me. I will join you shortly."

His daughter regarded him curiously. "I thought you were all leaving today. What changed?"

"Come, darling." Eleanor came up to her and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room. "I will explain on our way to your brother's quarters."

Once the two women left the hall, Bryce returned his attention to Duncan. "Please forgive the disruption. My daughter is both stubborn and proud. Quite a difficult combination when it comes to discipline."

"It's no trouble, my lord. Such traits are valuable in such difficult times," Duncan assured him with a small smile.

"Indeed. Now… To the matter of your quest for new recruits. Did any of the warriors in the tourney pique your interest? If some did, I can make the call to have them brought here."

"Yes…" Duncan paused, running a hand through his beard. "There were a few good prospects. However, we don't only require strength and skill, but recruits should also demonstrate they are not simply searching for fame and glory. Fighting the darkspawn requires a far greater sense of commitment and sacrifice, as I'm certain you understand."

Bryce nodded. "Of course. Who do you have in mind?"

"The young man serving under you—Ser Gilmore… I believe he would be a good match for the Grey Wardens."

Alistair glanced towards him, knowing full well the knight wasn't his first choice.

Teyrn Bryce clasped his hands behind his back, conflicted. "Ser Gilmore… He is amongst the best of my knights, so I don't doubt he would make a great addition to your ranks. Unfortunately, however, he's practically part of the family. He and my daughter grew up together. Not to mention he's the son of one of the banns farming my lands—one who also serves me loyally."

"I understand, my lord. But battling the Blight demands sacrifice from us all. In a way, he would continue to serve your people by protecting them from the darkspawn threat," Duncan graciously persisted. "Please. I would like to recruit him, with your leave."

"You are right, of course." Bryce took a deep breath. "Very well… You have it."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

He nodded and gave him a scrutinizing look. "Is he the only one you seek to recruit? I assumed you had someone else in mind, considering the outcome of the tourney."

Ah… so he suspects already. Alistair thought, taking notice of the chilling atmosphere now filling the room. His eyes went from Duncan to the teyrn, whose posture wasn't as relaxed as before.

Duncan held the teyrn's gaze, and if he was intimidated by him at all, he didn't show it. "Yes… Your daughter was actually my first choice, your Lordship."

The teyrn's tone went rigid. "I figured as much. However, I would appreciate it if you would please avoid approaching her regarding this matter. I will not approve of her being dragged into this conflict."

"I thought you said Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend," Howe spoke from behind him. "I would think it would be an honor."

"It certainly would be, Howe. But I've not so many children that I would gladly send them all off to battle," Bryce told his friend and cast troubled eyes on Duncan. "Unless… you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription."

Seeing his concern, Duncan's hardened expression softened and he shook his head. "Have no fear. You have given me your answer. And while we are in desperate need of arms, I don't intend to force the issue."

"Good." He released a soft breath of relief, shoulders visibly relaxing. "I thank you."

So conscripting, in this case, is more trouble than it's worth, Alistair thought as he glanced towards his mentor. The teyrn has a great deal of influence, sitting right under the crown. It's no wonder Duncan doesn't want to risk making him angry.

"Well… Now that that's settled, I imagine you must be worn out from your travels. Please feel free to stay the night. You can march with me to Ostagar in the morning," Bryce said to them before regarding one of the guards. "Please take the Grey Wardens to Ser Gilmore and ask the maids to prepare one of the guest rooms for them."

The guard nodded, slamming a fist to his chest. "Yes, my lord."

.x.x.x.x.

"Your rebellious tendencies must stop. Now they may just take you away because of your indiscretion," Eleanor quietly scolded her nineteen-year-old daughter as they made their way through the castle.

They were crossing an open path, daylight shining down upon them and brightening everything it touched. Climbing plants crawled beautifully over the stone walls, splashing them with color and reaching over to hang from the wooden arches above their heads. Soldiers were posted in every corner, statues standing guard.

"What?" Everil raised an eyebrow at her. "Take me away? Who, Mother?"

"The Grey Wardens. That's who. They are looking for recruits to help fight the Blight. Duncan was clearly interested in you. Now, I've no doubt he will ask to recruit you."

Her daughter chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "Father would never allow it."

"You don't understand." Eleanor paused in her stride, turning to her and taking her hand. "Grey Wardens have the king's leave to conscript whomever they wish—even those of noble birth. Even you."

"Really? I thought they no longer had that power in Ferelden."

"Well, they do now." Eleanor released a breath, her brow still furrowed in worry as they resumed walking. "I hope your father keeps them from getting any ideas. I will not watch my only other child go off to fight Maker knows what."

"Don't worry... I'm sure it will be all right."

There was a brief pause between them while Everil glanced apprehensively at her. "So Mother… Why is it you're leaving the castle tomorrow too? Is your visit to Bann Loren's wife truly necessary?"

"Yes. Your father wants everyone to look to you for leadership right now, not I. He thinks my presence here will undermine your authority."

"I don't think you should go…"

Eleanor gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, darling. I will return in a few weeks. After we have given enough time for everyone to get used to seeing you at the helm."

"I just don't understand…" Everil stared ahead with troubled eyes. "Why does Father want me to do this now?"

"You are all grown up. It was bound to happen one day. And…" her mother sighed, gaze downcast. "Maker, I don't even want to think about this, but… Should something happen to your father and brother out on the battlefield, you would be the one to take over Highever in their stead."

Everi's frown deepened. "But Highever has you…"

"My pup, life is fleeting…" Eleanor stared lovingly at her. "I will not be here forever, you know."

She smiled a little. "But you're still young and strong, Mother dear. You have quite a few years ahead of you."

"Well, thank you," she chuckled.

An angry scream followed by colorful curses echoed through the passageways, disrupting their conversation and stopping them in their tracks.

Their heads craned in the direction of the noise as a large dog ran towards them from the kitchens, a dead chicken dangling from its maws. He was being chased by Everil's old nanny, who was wielding a pan as she screamed at the top of her lungs, "You rotten mutt!"

"Bjorn!" Everil called out before the hulking, brown dog reached her and cowered behind her skirts.

He was a mabari. A priced breed of hound meant for war and native to Ferelden. They were feared on the battlefield, with jaws capable of crushing bones and a nose that could track anything for miles. Yet in her eyes, he was but an oversized little puppy, waiting to be pampered and spoiled.

"Young lady!" Nan stopped before her, wrinkled cheeks flushed in anger as she panted for breath. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! And I grow weary of chasing it away from our food!"

Everil resisted the chuckle threatening to escape her as she stared.

Her old nanny's simple cream dress and apron were covered in flour after the chase inside the kitchen. While more powder covered her face, blending in with white hair, which hung haphazardly from the once tidy bun. She was the most experienced servant in their castle, having been hired to care for her since her birth. As such, she was also nearly part of the family, and she commanded the servants just as well as their knights did their soldiers.

The young woman offered her an apologetic smile, attempting to appease her. "He's a growing boy, Nan. He requires more food than what the servants give him, that's all."

"Nonsense! That dog eats better than most of our staff," Nan retorted, glaring at the hound as it shrunk back behind its mistress. "Perhaps that's why he's such a glutton. Perhaps we should feed him less."

The dog whined miserably in response.

Eleanor shook her head. "Darling, you need to control that troublesome hound or put him in the kennels. This is the third time he has caused trouble this week."

"I thought I taught you personal responsibility, young lady," Nan griped, crossing her arms. "He's your hound. I expect you to fix this and quickly."

Everil groaned inwardly. Having raised her, Nan was the only servant in the entire castle who could yell at her as if she were a child. And things were worse when both she and her mother were in the same room. For it sometimes was as if she had two mothers, always around to scold and lecture her everywhere she went.

"I am sorry he bothered you, Nan," she sighed while reaching to the hound with an open hand, prompting him to give her the pilfered treat. She held the dead animal by the neck, unfazed by the dripping blood as she offered it to her. "I don't know if it's any good anymore... but here."

Nan shook her head with a disgusted scowl and took the bird. "Just keep the bloody thing out of the kitchen. I cannot do my job with that beast roaming about."

"I know. From now on, I will make sure to leave him in my room any time I'm away. Will that help?"

"Yes, my lady," Nan replied, her anger ebbing away slightly.

"All right then." Everil craned her head down to the dog. "You heard me. No more raiding the kitchen for food. Understood?"

Bjorn whined a little, looking up at the three women with the saddest look he could muster.

She smiled lovingly at him, petting his head. "Oh, that won't work on me, silly dog. I was the one who taught you that trick, remember?"

He barked in response, happily wagging his stubby tail.

"Thank you, my lady. Now we can prepare food for our soldiers in peace." Nan gave a short bow before heading back the way she came.

"Good work calming her down. You always had a way with her," Eleanor praised with a smile. "Maybe your hound will refrain from causing any more mischief from now on. I swear he is too smart for his own good."

"Yes..." Everil grinned at her. "But you must admit seeing Nan chase after him like that was pretty funny."

Eleanor shook her head with a hopeless smile. "I see now why he chose you as his mistress. Terrible, terrible influence."

"Oh, I am not so bad," she jested, looking at her hound. "Right, boy?"

He barked happily.

Both women chuckled, their laughter carrying through the hallways.

.x.x.x.x.

They entered their sleeping quarters, crossing a long hall well lit by torches. It was lined with a few more sets of armor, while ornate chairs sat in sitting areas by a few bookshelves against the wall. Portraits of her mother and father were set above their room on the far side of the wide corridor. While her room and her brother's sat opposite of each other next to theirs.

The two of them entered one of the chambers, where Fergus, his wife, and child were saying their goodbyes.

"Auntie! Auntie!" Her eight-year-old nephew ran up to Everil, immediately latching on to her with a wide, excited smile. "You were so strong!"

"Thank you, Oren!" She ruffled his brown hair and hugged back the bouncing ball of energy. "Did you have fun today?"

He beamed. "Yes, Auntie! Lots and lots!"

Fergus and his wife, Oriana, were standing by the bedroom fireplace, smiling at her exchange with their boy. The room was well furnished, with exquisite paintings of the Fereldan landscape, a large bed and a smaller one across from it. Fur carpets adorned the stone floor, trophies from some of her brother's bigger hunts.

"I knew you were up to something when I didn't see you with us, little sister. You gave everyone a great show." Her brother grinned, mirth in his brown eyes. He was much older than her, but he was sometimes her partner in crime.

"Please don't encourage her, Son," Eleanor pleaded and let out a heavy sigh. "Were it not for her itch to fight every battle, it would be easier for me to find her a decent suitor."

He chuckled. "Come now, Mother dear. She refuses to wed because it is you and Father making the decision for her. Everil is as headstrong as a boar."

"Headstrong will not get me any more grandchildren," she lamented.

"I'm standing right here, you know," Everil muttered with slight irritation, still hugging her nephew.

"I can't help it, Sister. It's my last chance to give you a hard time before I ride off." Fergus smiled at her and crossed his arms. "So… I take it you two have come to see me off?"

"Yes," replied Eleanor. "And we bring a message from your father. You are to leave ahead of him. He will not be riding until tomorrow morning."

"Ah… So Howe's men really are delayed." Fergus let out a scoff. "I swear it's almost as if they walked backwards, the idiots."

Oriana's face fell. "I wish we had more time…"

"Don't worry love..." He gently took her hand between both of his. "I promise to write to you every day."

She smiled lightly in return, sadness never leaving her eyes.

"Is it daw'rkspewn you will be fighting, Papa?" his son asked excitedly. "I sure wish I could see it!"

"Darkspawn, Oren. And I don't believe they would be a pretty sight to see," Fergus half-joked.

His wife frowned. "Maker, I don't want to even want to think about it…"

"Fergus will be fine," Everil assured them as she looked down at Oren, stroking the boy's hair. "Your father is a better swordsman than I, and you saw me defeat even Ser Gilmore today."

"Yes! You should teach me how to fight too, Auntie!" came his energetic reply. "I want to learn how to use a sward too!"

She grinned. "Ask your mother."

Oriana sighed at her sister in law. "I believe my answer is no."

"I never get to do anything!" the child protested with a pout.

Light laughter filled the room as they chatted, then Bryce arrived, having completed his talks with his guests. He walked up to them, standing by his wife. "I see you relayed the news."

Fergus nodded. "Yes, Father. I will prepare the men and set out immediately."

"Father, are the Grey Wardens still here?" Everil asked, and seeing her mother's glare, she quickly added. "Not that I will seek them out, or anything. I am only curious."

"Grey Wardens! Were they riding on griffons?" Oren asked in wonder.

"Griffons are extinct, dear. They only exist in storybooks now," his mother corrected.

Bryce smiled lightly. "Yes. They came looking for recruits. They have decided on Ser Gilmore."

"Ser Gilmore?" Everil uttered quietly, slightly disappointed. "I see…"

The young knight had been around her since they were kids. They were even involved in a bit of a relationship once before. Which they left behind closed doors since in spite of being the son of a bann, wooing her would appear as if Gilmore were seeking her family's lands. Especially due to his service to her father. And appearances were everything for members of the nobility. Chastity was also important for noble daughters to marry into other influential families. So after only a few kisses, he decided to cut things short between them— for her sake. It took years for her to set aside the romantic feelings, but she still cared deeply for him as a trusted friend.

Fergus put on a proud smile, gently punching her arm. "I'm surprised they didn't ask for my little sister, instead."

She punched him back, gazing at him with mock irritation.

"They know what is best," Bryce said simply.

"Well…" Fergus sighed and rubbed his hands. "I suppose it's time for me to go. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time."

Eleanor stepped towards her son, eyeing him with concern as she lovingly cupped his cheek. "Please be safe out there, my son. I will be praying for you every day you are gone."

"You worry too much, Mother," he uttered while pulling her into a gentle hug. "We will return soon, I promise."

"Pup," Bryce firmly called to Everil. "You should head to bed now. You will need an early rise tomorrow so you may see me off and tend to my morning duties."

She nodded. "Understood."

Fergus walked up to her, bringing her in for a tight embrace. "Take care of everyone, Everil."

With a heavy heart, she wrapped her arms around her older brother and reciprocated the hug. Everil didn't want to think about it, but there was a real possibility that this would be the last time she would ever see him."Make sure you return in one piece, Fergus." She pulled away, smiling up at him to hide her worries. "Now, get out of here already. The darkspawn are not going to kill themselves."

He grinned widely. "I will kill a few in your name."

She laughed. "Good."

After saying her goodnights, Everil exited the room, leaving her family to talk as she crossed the hall into her chambers. Her hound followed behind her as she opened the door and stepped inside, closing it before letting out a tired huff. And it was then she became aware of the bad feeling making its way into her heart. One she just couldn't explain. A frown creased her brow at the uncomfortable pressure in her chest, her hand coming to rest over the charm her parents once gifted her.