Alestia gave her father black looks, her whole body shaking from indignation.
"Off you go, Pup," said Bryce Cousland, his voice warm with a small shadow of concern as his offspring stormed down the hall.
"Your daughter is quite a rebel, your Lordship," Arl Howe smirked. The entire drama only strengthened his beliefs that the Teyrn's children were a bunch of spoiled brats who couldn't even possibly understand how lucky they were to inherit such a great treasure as Highever.
"She is still young and inexperienced, my friend," said the senior of Cousland family defensively. "But I am positive my daughter will understand the importance of this marriage soon enough."
He looked at a stout dark-skinned man to his left.
"My apologies, Duncan. I wasn't going to make the matter public so early, but my fierce girl left me no other choice."
"I understand, your Lordship. But it was my fault; I shouldn't have brought up my recruitment request so boldly. Our order is too small to risk animosity with Ferelden's nobility," reassured the leader of the Grey Wardens.
"And glad I am to hear it. This marriage is the best way to ensure the trust between the Howe and Cousland houses; especially now, when we're about to levy war on darkspawn," said the Teyrn, frowning at the thought of those malicious creatures.
"Indeed." Another smirk appeared on Rendon Howe's thin lips as he saw the last unit of the Highever forces marching towards the main gates.
...
Alestia's footsteps echoed angrily on her way to Fergus' chambers. Her hands balled into fists and the expression on her face read anything but nice and tranquil. The guards stationed at treasury and library lowered their eyes as she passed and Alestia wondered if they all knew about the matchmaking already. Was she the last person in Highever to learn about her own wedding? She closed her eyes tight for a mere second, but it was enough for her to bump into Ser Gilmore. They both shrieked when their foreheads collided.
"You! How could you not tell me?" exclaimed Alestia, rubbing her sore forehead.
"What? I found out about it an hour ago myself!" countered Ser Gilmore. "I saw your father meeting this Grey Warden, but how could I possibly know they were talking about me? Maker's blood, can you imagine? Me? A Grey Warden! It would be everything I've dreamed of!"
"Right," mumbled the youngest of the Couslands. "You are about to become a hero of Ferelden and I am about to be forced to marry Thomas Howe, give birth to five children and end up counting how many roast beefs shall be ordered for the next dinner!"
"Oh," gasped the Warden-to-be. "My ladyship, I had no idea…"
"Well, it makes two of us," sighed Alestia.
Ser Gilmore looked at her with a distinct compassion in his eyes. Alestia was always a fire, a wild spirit that no one could tame. No one except for her parents. He knew she hated it. She hated the fact that she was a noble, that she had to obey; that her opinion was meaningless when the future of Highever was at stake. He knew she would never survive in the cage of arranged marriage. Her fire would slowly die and she would become one of those plump and pompous ladies they met during Highever festivities whose only concern was to find a good match for their numerous sons and daughters.
"You know, Lady Landra and her son are here," he said, placing his hand on Alestia's delicate shoulder. A small smile flashed in the corners of his mouth.
Alestia glanced at Ser Gilmore meaningfully. Both of them knew that Dairren was fond of her. He was the only one whose company she could endure while spending time in the family library. There she talked passionately about ancient heroes of Ferelden and Tevinter Imperium, about dragons and demons, swinging her daggers or riding her Mabari hound as if he was a mighty griffon described in Brother Timious' works, fighting imaginary darkspawn. Dairren shared her fascination with books of history and adventure, but he tried to refrain himself from imaginary battles, giving all the glory to Alestia, whose vigorous yet swift movements and acute war cries always held him in awe and adoration of the fair-haired lady. She liked Dairren enough to allow him to spend time in her chambers during his mother's visits to Highever, when they dreamed of future victories: she – a notorious warrior, a master of bow and daggers, a defender of weak and needy, a sworn enemy of evil and corruption; and he – her faithful knight (or squire as he preferred himself) who was to record all their adventures.
Come to think of it, she rather preferred to marry him than Rendon Howe's offspring if there was no chance to avoid the matter at all. But her parents' mind had been already set and it seemed it was decided long time ago. Unless… Unless she could do something about it.
"Then I'll be on my way to greet them," said Alestia, a small mischievous smile covering her pale, but beautiful face. "Thank you, Ser Gilmore."
...
"Have you read, "The Art of Passionate Love"?" inquired Alestia, reaching for a massive tome bound in red leather.
She was a bit nervous, but tried to cover it with a mask of constant smiles and giggles.
"Brother Capria's work?" asked Dairren, his cheeks and neck turning red. "Oh… that was banned by the Chantry, wasn't it? Quite… provocative, I understand. But I've, ah, never read it, myself."
Alestia sat beside Dairren, the book resting on her lap. She looked into his hazel eyes, then her gaze moved slowly to his nose and finally stopped at his lips. He gulped and bit his lower lip.
"It isn't really meant for reading," she said in a low voice, taking Dairren's hand in hers.
He felt his body strain, a pleasant heat was spreading across his arms and legs. Alestia tilted her head, showing off her lovely neck. Her long blond hair cascaded down across her shoulders, contrasting with the dark green dress she wore. As if his free hand had a will of its own, it moved towards the exposed skin and touched a small pendant lying on her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine. His hand caressed her neck and slowly moved upwards till it reached her ear. Alestia groaned, her heart racing like crazy Chasind through Korcari Wilds. She covered Dairren's hand with her own and closed her eyes to intensify the feeling of another person touching her.
What am I doing?
He moved closer and now she could feel his warm breath on her lips. Then she felt her lips becoming wet and his tongue making its way inside her mouth. The sensation was strange, unknown, yet a pleasant one. She felt the heat of his body slowly passing on to her, making her own body more responsive to his caresses. Her head spun, and she could hear the pulse of her heart on the tips of his fingers as they moved clumsily along her dress in a hasty attempt to get rid of it. They tumbled into bed, the book falling from her lap and onto the floor. The kisses became deeper, the touching impatient. She arched her back to let him pull off her lower tunic and felt something as hard as a rock pressing against her thigh. He was tense and nervous, his movements careless and brusque. She looked at him and realized that she was not the only one to experience the pleasure of intimacy for the first time. She clutched at his back with her nails when he made his way inside her, a sharp pain overflowing any pleasant sensations. She clenched her teeth and felt her eyes becoming wet with tears.
It hurts. No one told me it would hurt so much.
She heard him asking something, she saw him looking into her eyes with concern, but she couldn't say a word without crying out loud. But her senses came back to her when Tulip, her loyal Mabari who always slept by her bed, started growling and barking furiously, his small auburn eyes fixed on her bedroom door. She thought she heard a groan and a clash of blades - or was it what she felt like happening inside her own head?
"Hm, there is definitely something wrong," frowned Alestia, looking at her hound. "What is it, boy?"
Tulip's growls only intensified when his mistress tried to calm him down.
"Wait here," warned Dairren, putting a bedsheet around his hips. "I'll see if there's something out in the hall."
He tiptoed to the door and opened it slowly. She didn't see the arrows piercing his body, she only saw Dairren collapsing on the floor, his face stiffened in horror. The two well armed men made their way inside her chambers, stepping over the lifeless body of her lover. Alestia moved backwards in her bed, her eyes fixed on Dairren's face. Tulip charged at one of the assailants, knocking him down and digging into his shoulder with his sharp teeth. The other man approached the bed and grabbed Alestia by her hair. He threw her off the bedsheets and onto the floor. He slapped her hard several times and smiled wryly before unsheathing his sword. The blade raised and fell out of his hand as the Mabari bit his arm, his huge fangs ripping off the flesh. The first wave of shock passed and Alestia came out of her stupor. She reached for her daggers and thrust them deeply into the assailant's feet. The man howled with pain before his throat was jugulated in one swift motion. Her eyes burned with anger and desperation, a grimace of hatred and pain covering her fine noble features. Alestia put on her light tunic, her hands shaking as adrenaline rushed through her veins. She looked around the room, searching for the place where she left her leather armor, trying hard to avoid the area where Dairren's body lay. A sudden noise in the hall caught her attention: the air rang with Teryna Eleanor's war cry. Tulip darted off the room, barking fiercely, ready to attack anyone who dared to lift a hand against his mistress' mother. Alestia grabbed her bow and a quiver full of arrows she and Ser Gilmore prepared a day earlier and ran out of her chambers, following the mighty hound.
The fight ended quickly, as nobody could run into the armored to the teeth battle maiden and get out with his limbs still in place. As the last man fell, Eleanor took her sword out of his chest and looked at her daughter, deep anxiety showing on her face.
"Darling! I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst! Andraste's mercy, you're hurt!"
Alestia stood in front of her, a long white tunic the only piece of clothing covering her body, which contrasted sharply with stripes of blood on her pale legs. She looked at her legs, then back at her mother.
"It's… nothing," she murmured, her face flushing.
Eleanor neared her daughter examining the young lady in front of her. She followed Alestia's gaze back to her room and saw a naked body of a man with arrows sticking out of his chest and throat.
"Dairren!" she gasped a realization of what happened, sobering her up.
"Mother, I…" Alestia choked down the tears ready to flood her cheeks. "It's my fault."
Eleanor fixed her eyes on her daughter.
"Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men," she said, gritting her teeth. "I don't know what this treacherous bastard wants, but he will never get his hands on my family."
Oh, Maker, she understood, but she is not mad at me.
Alestia hugged her mother. She couldn't keep her tears any longer, so she began weeping on her shoulder.
"We must find your father," said the older woman, stroking her child's hair.
Alestia was quite slow to grasp the following events. They found Oren and Oriana mercilessly killed in Fergus' chambers. Eleanor cried like a wounded she-wolf whose cubs were taken from her by Chasind barbarians. She called down curses upon Howe and cut his soldiers as if they were made of wood. They met Ser Gilmore who kept guarding the main gates, throwing his last forces to make sure the Couslands could escape the massacre. Alestia hugged him and kissed his blood-stained cheek. He smiled bitterly and wished them good luck. She feared she would never see him again. They ran into the severed bodies of Nun and her elven servants before finding Bryce lying in his own blood at the back of the kitchen. Alestia tried to assure her father and herself that he would make it, that they could all escape, find Fergus at Ostagar and take vengeance upon Howe. She couldn't see how bad the injuries were, because her eyes were covered in an impenetrable shroud of tears. She heard Duncan, who came shortly after they found the head of Cousland family, talking to her mother, but she couldn't fathom a word of their conversation. She heard Eleanor crying, she felt her father's shaking hands touching her shoulders and kissing her forehead. She remembered Duncan kneeling before Bryce, his voice steady but sad. She remembered how clearly he said "Grey Warden" and understood three other words: "vengeance", "Blight" and "duty". She felt her mother putting something silvery in her pouch and caressing her cheeks. She remembered Duncan's hand on her back, the way she fought him, trying to break free and stay with her parents, how easily he lifted her and flung her body over his broad shoulder. She remembered and swore never to forget.
A/N: Yeah, it really took me some time to update, but on the other hand I am finally done with my University paper! ;-)
I was planning on writing a prequel to "Where the Heart Is", but then I couldn't get rid of all these beautiful and ok, sometimes nasty, thoughts, which kept harassing my mind.
Again special thanks to DENISLAMINACCIA for his great support and wonderful ideas and DalishRanger for her time and efforts to make my English readable.