Ch. 3: An Appointed Hour

After the past week of hard riding and narrowly dodging pursuers from Arl Howe, Duncan, Ferelden's Warden-Commander, looked no worse for wear as he admired the Vhenadahl of the Alienage. Of course, he had spent last night at the Cousland Manor in Denerim. He had enjoyed bountiful food and rest in a rich bed as an honored guest. The excellent treatment saw him restored to his prime.

Dáibhádh Cousland had experienced many of the same things as he had ridden with Duncan during the same escape from Howe and was the one who had insisted that Duncan enjoy all of the amenities as any member of the Cousland clan would. Yet, he looked stricken. Deep bags hung beneath his downcast eyes. The easy smile that he was well-known for at Highever hadn't been seen since the loss of his home and family. Another yawn came out as he rubbed his eyes.

Duncan glanced at his companion. "My lord Cousland, you should return to the manor. You need to rest. We may only have another day before Howe arrives in Denerim."

Cousland shook his head. "I, I need a distraction." Sleep, true, restful sleep had eluded Dái since the night of Howe's betrayal. Whether it was the vengeful fire burning in his chest or the nightmares waiting for his closed eyes, Dái never slept long. Thus, when Duncan announced he was paying a visit to an old friend, Dái had followed along; eager for anything that might ease his mind. The Heir to Highever glanced toward the upcoming weddings with an inkling of hope.

Beside him, Garahel nuzzled his snout against his master's leg. Although sleep had not eluded the Mabari, he shared his master's pain and was constantly trying to improve his mood. When they first arrived at the manor, Garahel had found and brought every old toy of his to Dái's feet, all in vain. As of now, his efforts only earned him a half-hearted pat.

Duncan watched them for a moment before relinquishing. His eyes roved the myriad of elves before them. "My friend should be out and about with all of this activity. I'm sure, what's this?" He focused on a pair of well-dressed elven men, who were rapidly approaching. "We appear to have warranted a welcome by the grooms themselves."

A single look proved their presence wasn't welcome as Dái observed the hostile sneer on the first elf's face. He was coming straight for them in quick strides as his hands held onto twin knives on either side of his hip, his shock of red hair reminding Dái of a short candle. Unfortunately, after fighting his way through an army, Dái wasn't intimidated by the angry youth.

The other elf's demeanor was considerably less aggressive. He was more wary as he reluctantly followed his friend, glancing worriedly at the knives his friend wore.

Garahel growled but Dái quickly put a stop to that. "Easy boy. We're guests and I doubt he's anything more than talk."


Darrian's frustration grew as he noticed the younger human's cockiness. The man saw him easily and seemed more bored by Darrian's approach than anything else. As if Darrian couldn't possibly be any kind of threat. If only I could prove just how wrong he is!

Unfortunately, even if he had the opportunity to do what he wanted, no doubt Soris would muck it up somehow, either whimpering that Darrian shouldn't have done it or tell someone else what had happen. Not to mention how hard it might be to explain if he returned with blood on his wedding clothes.

With great reluctance, Darrian halted a respectful distance from the humans. The dark-skinned human took the initiative. "Good day, I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding." The man even saluted them, his arms crossed over his chest as he lightly bowed.

Darrian's anger withered under the courtesy given to him. Unbidden, his mother's words echoed in his mind. My child, always remember that there are good humans out there. Were it not for one brave red-haired woman, I would still be locked away and at the mercy of Commander Raleigh. It had been one of the last things she had tried to teach him before the same humans had killed her, souring her last lesson. Since then, Darrian had met no man or woman worthy of his mother's respect. This stranger, though, was threatening to undermine that perception.

He frowned at the bearded man before replying in an even tone, "You're not wanted here. This is a private ceremony."

"That may be," the man acknowledged, "but I'll point out that it is being held in public. I apologize if our presence causes a stir."

Darrian grew irritated by the stranger's politeness. It made it harder to dislike him. Darrian glanced at the younger man, willing him to say or do something stupid. But the green-eyed stranger stayed silent, deferring to his elder as common courtesy dictated. It also ruined any kind of justification for Darrian to simply throw them out. He directed his attention back to the first man. "The Alienage just isn't a good place for humans to be."

"I'm sorry, but we've no intention of leaving."

The worst part is that he actually sounded sorry about it. All Darrian had wanted to do was thrash the three intruders and get back to Nesiara and the wedding. ….wait, when did I start getting excited by the wedding? Darrian scowled, "Fine, maybe we can compromise."

"He keeps his composure, even when facing down an unknown and armed human," the stranger remarked to himself.

Is he...talking to himself? Darrian suddenly wondered if this human was mad.

"A true gift, wouldn't you say, Valendrian?" the stranger finished.

To his, Soris', and even to the younger human's surprise, the Alienage Elder appeared by Duncan's side. "I would say the world has far more use for those who know how to stay their blades," Valendrian answered with shocking familiarity. The aged and white-haired elf smiled up at the black-haired stranger. "It is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long.

"You know this human, Elder?" Darrian pressed.

Valendrian turned to Darrian. "May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden." He paused as he studied the younger human. The pause lengthened when the Elder's mouth opened in surprise. "Duncan, are my eyes deceiving me or is that a Cousland traveling with you?"

Darrian froze. He remembered all of his thoughts about harming these two humans and the relish he would have from doing so. But, if the young man was a Cousland, Darrian had been one step away from ruining his family. While the Couslands were well-known for their hospitable treatment toward elves, Kallian included, they were also his father's most consistent and his best-paying customers. It was their wealth which fueled his father's business and propelled him upward as an upstanding member of the Alienage. If father learned that I harmed a Cousland, he'd have my head on a platter!

The Grey Warden leader nodded. "Yes, may I present Dáibhádh Cousland, son of Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever."

"Former Teyrn of Highever," Cousland added bitterly.

Former? I thought Bryce was still alive. I'm sure Kallian would've mentioned something as big as the Teyrn dying, Darrian thought. Valendrian looked as confused as Darrian felt as he asked, "My apologies, my lord, has your father stepped down from his position?"

"He was murdered!" Cousland snapped. "We were betrayed. My parents are dead, and Highever has been sacked by the treacherous Arl Howe."

Darrian reflexively glanced toward his father's workshop. If father's best patron is dead, what will become of him? And how Kallian is going to react to all of this? He turned his attention on Duncan. And a Grey Warden is here too. Why would a Grey Warden, a leader too, come to the Alienage? From all the rumors I hear about darkspawn in the South, shouldn't he be there?

Before Darrian could voice any of his questions, the Elder stepped in. "My lord, it grieves me to hear of your loss. Your father was a very well-respected man in our community. But, this is an awkward time. We are having a wedding, two in fact."

The anger Cousland was releasing died away as he nodded. "My apologies. I am… tired. I did not come here to bring such poor news. Please, continue with your celebrations." He turned his weary eyes on Darrian and Soris as he gave them a poor excuse of a smile. "May the Maker bless your unions."

Soris bowed his head. "Thank you, my lord."

Although his bow was awkward and forced, Darrian echoed his cousin. "Thank you, my lord."

Valendrian took over. "Children, treat Duncan and Lord Cousland as my personal guests. And for the Maker's sake, please take your places!"

Duncan chimed in with one last piece. "Please, do not let us interrupt further. We shall speak more later."

Dismissed, the two husbands-to-be headed toward the wedding platform. Halfway there, Darrian paused as he glanced back to the group of three, focusing on the young human. So that's the man Kallian goes on about. Day-vach Cousland. Strange name. I was expecting something more than a skinny youngster who snaps at old men.

"Come on, Darrian, it's time," Soris urged as Valendrian moved ahead of them to take his rightful place on the wedding platform. Already, Darrian could see Kallian and Shianni up there speaking a few words with the priest on one side. On the other, the brides waited, the Mouse, and beside her, the vision that was to be his bride. Nesiara chattered with the Mouse as her ponytail swayed in the breeze, her hair glowing with sunlight.

For the moment, Darrian pushed back his thoughts about the Couslands and the Grey Wardens as he strode toward the platform. He stopped by his father to discreetly hand over his knives. Although he earned a reproving scowl, his father sighed and said with a small smile. "Congratulations, my son."

Darrian nodded before hurrying up the short staircase. Valendrian had taken his rightful place to the side of the wedding party where he would oversee the event. Soris walked with him until they parted, taking their spots next to their soon-to-be-wives. The Mouse squeaked something at Soris to which he said something back.

Then Nesiara said with a bright smile, "Good. I'm so finally pleased to finally do this!"

Cyrion was the last party member to ascend the platform, choosing to stand next to Shianni and Kallian, Darrian's knives now safely somewhere else. Soris announced nervously, "It looks like everyone is ready."

"Let's get this over with," Darrian huffed as he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he stood in front of the entire Alienage. He felt exposed...and terribly giddy with energy. How in Thedas could anyone expect him to stay still while the priest droned on with the vows?

But it was Valendrian who stepped forward to take the stage's center. "Friends and family, today we not only celebrate this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other."

Do we need this speech? Come on! I thought the Mother was in charge of this? Darrian cheered when Valendrian returned to the side as the Andraste priest stepped forward, a smile on her face. Maker, please tell me she's going to skip the speech and go straight for the vows!

The Maker seemed to hear his prayer as the Mother quickly thanked Valendrian before beginning the vows. "In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I -"

Then Soris interrupted her as he pointed at something past her shoulder. Darrian nearly swore as he looked to where his cousin pointed at. Then his heart skipped a beat. He had been so focused on the Mother, he hadn't noticed the approaching column of guards with three nobles in the lead. The foremost man was Arl Vaughan. Without hesitation, the Arl's son stomped up the stairs and onto the stage.

The Mother greeted him. "Milord! This is… an unexpected surprise."

"Sorry to interrupt Mother," Vaughan chortled, "But I'm having a party. And we're dreadfully short of female guests." He stopped behind Kallian and a friend of Shianni's, a sly grin engraved on his face.

The Mother protested. "Milord, this is a wedding!"

Any hope of the Chantry stopping the lecherous lordling died as Vaughan replied, "Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business. But don't pretend this is a proper wedding." With a sneer, the Arl dismissed the priest as he strode across the stage. "Now, we're here to have a good time, right boys?"

The other noble brats chimed their approval. Darrian ignored them as he stared intently at his father, his fingers gently patting his hips where his knives could usually be found. Cyrion shook his head, unhelpfully disagreeing with his plan. We can't just let them walk all over us! Darrian tried to shout with his eyes.

"You shall do no such thing!"