The pattering rain on the windows began to pour harder until Alissandra could no longer see the coastline through the mist and haze. She wondered if the weather in Amaranthine is always so. She finally removed herself from the window and plopped on the newly-prepared bed. Her thoughts were now on tomorrow and her new duties as Warden Commander. First, a full review of the keep must be made to see to its defenses and weak points. She frowned, remembering how easily Vigil's Keep had fallen to the darkspawn despite being defended by Amaranthine guards and Orlesian Grey Wardens no less. She did not know Orlesian Grey Wardens and their skills in battle. Riordan was the only Orlesian Warden she knew, if she were to believe that each Orlesian Warden who had fallen in Vigil's Keep were of the same skill as Riordan…
…then these talking darkspawn are more formidable than the darkspawn we have fought during the Blight, she surmised. A review of the fortifications, burial rites for those who fell in battle, including Mhairi, she noted sadly. Inventory of weapons, inventory of poultices, listing of remaining soldiers and their assigned areas, write a letter to Fergus, write a letter to Bann Teagan…
The list went on as her eyes begin to flutter drowsily. It was a habit inculcated by her father's training since childhood.
"Always be prepared for what will come tomorrow, Pup," Bryce Cousland told her, his eyes on the soldiers training on the grounds while his hand squeezed his 9-year-old daughter's shoulder. "People treat nobles with respect not because we are born to it. Nobles are treated with reverence because the people know that in times of war and chaos, it will be our responsibility to safeguard them. We, as their leaders, must sacrifice our very lives so that they can go on living theirs. Nobility is a duty, Pup, and to the Couslands…"
"Our duty is our honor," Alissandra finished the family words, etched in her mind since birth. She watched her brother marching in front of the Highever troops, her heart brimming with pride.
The memory mingled with the list, her thoughts becoming a fluid mix as it crept toward the place between sleep and wakefulness. She was very tired and her body yearned for rest. But one last item was added in the list before she began to dream:
Write to Zevran in Antiva.
Oghren had a hangover, and he groaned about it at breakfast that morning.
"From drinking darkspawn blood or from drinking the four bottles of wine I found in the dining hall before you arrived - hey, I thought I was going to die, might as well die drunk - I do not know. Either way, I have never had a headache like this before," he grumbled.
The Warden Commander, he had to get used to calling her that now, gave him a sheepish smile, but quickly returned to the letter she was writing while eating her eggs and bread. The Howe son chose not to pay attention to him, brooding over his plate of fried bacon and bread. The apostate, what was his name, Anders – that doesn't sound like a real name – laughed and offered to give him a healing drink for his headache.
"I like the way you think, ser dwarf," Anders said. "If I thought I was going to die, I'd get drunken pissed myself: drink a whole casket, shoot off some fireballs at annoying people, get naked with a pretty lady… or two. Or three."
Oghren laughed his rumbling belly laugh. Finally, someone who understands. By the time they were finished with breakfast and crossing the threshold towards the courtyard, the apostate mage and the berserker dwarf were already close friends. Between stories about escaping the Circle seven times from Anders and Oghren's glory days as a renowned member of the warrior caste, having ale, riches and women thrown at his feet – maybe he exaggerated that a little – the day was spent surveying Vigil's Keep, its defenses and its troops.
"I have drafted a letter this morning, to be sent out to all our allies: dwarves, elves, mages, Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, Bann Teagan of Rainesfere, hahren Valendrian of the Denerim Alienage, King Behlen of Orzammar, even my brother Teryn Fergus Cousland of Highever. It is a letter to be copied and posted in their barracks, in taverns, Chantries, warrior halls and rogue training guilds – a call to arms for the best men, women, dwarves, elves and mages, to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens," Alissandra was explaining to Seneschal Varel and the messengers. Oghren listened to his friend, half wondering what happened between the Blight and now that changed her so. She used to be a riot, a practical joker and witty-retorter. Was this the same Warden who would cut a hurlock's throat, swivel around to deliver a one-liner to him or Zevran, then twirl in time to shoot an arrow through some ogre's eyeballs with a backwards wink?
"The Grey Warden popularity has risen since you saved Ferelden from the darkspawn. Surely many will be enticed to join," the Seneschal observed.
"Among the humans, sure," Oghren said. "But don't expect too much from Orzammar. Our warriors will be too focused on defending Orzammar to worry about dealings here in the surface."
"I guess that makes you a dwarf of rare character, then," Anders quipped.
Oghren was about to respond when Alissandra interrupted with a serious tone, "I hope new blood will awaken the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, but I expect Arl Eamon, Teagan, my brother and our other allies will brief the recruits before sending them here. We may be popular now, but I do not want applicants to think we are a guild for glory or thrill seekers."
"I think we joined the wrong guild," Anders whispered to Oghren. Oghren chuckled in reply, catching the eye of the Warden Commander. He saw the serious concern in her eyes, like she was carrying the weight of a mountain on her back, and then he remembered the warrior lass who didn't survive the Joining. He wondered how many more recruits will fall before fulfilling their duty. No wonder the Warden has become so serious. She had a lot of growing up to do last year, and now, this. He grimaced at the lucidity of his thoughts, prompting him to take a swig of mead from his pack.
"Hey, Commander," Oghren said, making sure not to make the word "commander" sound too serious. "Have time to talk?"
"Is there something wrong, Oghren?" she asked, worry lines appearing between her eyebrows. Varel and the messengers departed, leaving the four of them in the courtyard to rest in the shade of Wade's shop.
"Yes. For one, stop that frowning, you're growing old in front of my eyes and I don't like it. It makes me feel… well, old, too. What happened to you? Where's the fun leader I followed in Orzammar? You know, the one who asked Bhelen to carve her face in one of our statues on a dare?"
She smiled and for a moment he felt that maybe she wasn't too far gone. "I'm still here, Oghren. It's just; I received this letter from the First Warden - the First Warden, Oghren! – and he basically told me how monumental my work here would be to the history of the order. Warden's being granted land and title, it's unprecedented. And if I set the precedence, in a correct way, this could change the way the world looks at Grey Wardens, as leaders, as an army, as assets to the country."
Oghren sighed, "Those are big words. And I was only listening to half, and the half I listened to I only half understood."
Alissandra rolled her eyes, "Thanks. I knew you cared."
"Ha. There, see, there's the sarcasm. Look, you have big responsibilities now, I get that much. But, don't let the responsibility get to you. Remember who you are."
"And who am I, Oghren?" Alissandra asked, smiling a little.
"The girl who formed an army, defeated the Blight but still managed to find time to befriend a Witch of the Wilds, a Qunari, an assassin, a crazy Chantry sister and help me find my gal."
"So, you're saying I shouldn't be all business all the time?" Alissandra pondered. "You're right, Oghren, thank you for the knock on the head."
"That's what I'm here for, Warden," Oghren said. "If things get too serious, rely on me to lighten the mood with some ale and dwarven wit."
"What a touching moment! Group hug?" Anders suddenly piped in.
"Should we get a move on?" Nathaniel asked, impatiently.
They went through Alissandra's list, setting aside the one's that required traveling for the next day. Their focus was to secure Vigil's Keep from another attack before leaving it for outside quests. Upon hearing the dwarven engineer's assessment, Alissandra dug into her own pockets. She didn't want to wait for official funding from Weisshaupt to begin the much needed fortifications and improvements. 50 sovereigns was a big amount and she saw her companions exchanging looks.
"This is our defenses we are talking about. We cannot go to Amaranthine or clear the paths for merchants with a clear head if we keep worrying about the Vigil," she justified to them.
"That is… unexpectedly selfless of you," Nathaniel said. Anders and Oghren stared, at Nathaniel then at Alissandra, knowing full well the tension between Cousland and Howe. Nathaniel had not spoken to her again since their confrontation the day before.
Alissandra was startled to hear something nice from a Howe, and awkwardly nodded as they proceeded to the cellars, where one of the keep's guards claim darkspawn have been spewing out. After 4 hours of battling darkspawn stragglers, and discovering Arl Rendon Howe's secret torture chambers, Oghren felt his heard his stomach grumbling.
"How much farther are these cellars?" he asked in wonder, leaning against his axe. He felt his arms throbbing from the fighting and swinging and the cutting through flesh.
"I honestly don't know. My father has forbidden us to enter these rooms," Nathaniel answered, shaking his head somberly. The more he learned about his father, the more he felt he didn't know the man at all.
"We cannot finish all these today. We must return tomorrow at first light," Alissandra decided. Upon returning to the courtyard, a private was waiting for the Warden Commander, clutching missives in her hands.
"Letters for the Warden Commander – they arrived this afternoon but, we didn't want to interrupt your… clearing operations, ser," the private explained, staring at the Warden Commander's bloodied daggers and rouge-spattered armor in awe.
"That was fast. These must have been sent even while I was travelling to Amaranthine," Alissandra commented, rifling through the papers to see who they were from. She suddenly paused on one, which made Oghren think, that must be the one she is waiting for.
"Yes, Commander. Most of them were sent by the nobles of Amaranthine, and some residents, asking for assistance and protection, upon hearing that a Grey Warden Commander is now in charge of the keep. Oh, and a letter from Antiva as well."
Oghren's ears perked up and he playfully nudged the Commander: "What did I tell you, business and pleasure, eh."
"Oghren! Behave! Thank you, private," Alissandra said, dismissing the soldier. Her list of tasks has been seen to, but now these letters replace those she had ticked off. She felt that her stay here will be a never-ending, always replenishing list of things that demand her attention.
The sky has grown dark and they all need to refuel and rest. Alissandra sent them ahead to have their dinner. As they entered the castle, Oghren looked back at his old friend and companion, and caught her pressing one of the letters to her lips – or was it her nose? Is she sniffing it? Under the moonlight she read the letter, and Oghren saw the beginning of a smile playing on her lips. No, she's not too far gone. She can still be happy yet.
Author's Notes:
Yey! Oghren's point of view.
- I want to thank those few people who favorite-d this fanfic. As I said before, this is my first try at fan fiction and you guys help me keep going. I have big plans for this story and want to focus on the politics and intrigue, as well as real-life leadership experiences that an actual Warden Commander must face.
- Expect a wedding, a lot of funerals, travel abroad, Bann Tegan(!), Rory Gilmore, a love triangle and lots of bro-mance in the future.
- In case anyone is wondering, Alissandra's name comes from Alix, the daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine. I was having a hard time thinking of a female noble's name that will fit for the daughter of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, and my research led me to Queen Eleanor.
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