Highever didn't feel like home any longer.

It was mostly the people, of course. Her parents Elissa tried not to think about, and she hadn't set foot in the pantry since her arrival. But it was also Oren's cheerful laugh and Oriana's soft Antivan's accent, Ser Gilmore's easy banter and Nan's scolding; all those things that had made Highever into a home instead of just a cold castle overlooking a port town.

Some of the familiar faces were still there, of course. A handful of knights had survived Ostagar and returned with Fergus, few of them unscarred and all of them withdrawn and silent. Some servants had managed to flee Howe's massacre and had likewise returned, but those familiar faces in the slowly growing household only served to highlight the many unfamiliar ones.

Fergus couldn't bear to sleep in his old room and had taken over the teyrn's suite, as was proper. The dark shadows under his eyes, however, clearly showed that he found little rest there either.

Elissa's own sleep was likewise restless; plagued with snatches of dreams and memories she did her best to forget in the morning. It also didn't help that the castle had been stripped of all valuables: not just the truly expensive items but also Bryce's and Eleanor's portraits and the Cousland family tapestries. Much of the furniture was damaged or soiled and had to be repaired, along with large parts of the masonry itself.

Sometimes Elissa caught herself wistfully thinking of Bryland's little house she had spent so many months in. Living there she had wished to be back at Highever every day. Now, when Highever was far more foreign to her than the hideout in the middle of nowhere, she wished herself… she didn't even know where. Away, anywhere but in this dreadful castle that dragged at her and Fergus like heavy weights on their shoulders.

Elissa supervised the repairs and the household, while Fergus travelled the teyrnir, inspecting it for damage and slowly trying to make the life in town and countryside return to normal. He avoided the castle as much as he could, often staying at inns in neighbouring villages, and while Elissa couldn't really fault him for it, she wished she could somehow escape as well. But what escape was there for a teyrn's spinster sister, tasked with making Castle Highever truly habitable again?

She spent hours with the castellan, discussing staff and supplies and sometimes even presiding over interviews with new servants. She listened to the knights' recommendations for promising new additions to their number and supervised the rebuilding and restocking of the armoury, the castle smithy and the training grounds. She practiced with them sometimes, slowly and methodically, appalled at her lost skills, blunted by months of forced idleness.

She even tried to take up embroidery again, when her thoughts wouldn't quieten and the walls of the castle pressed closer and closer. Sometimes she managed to escape into some mindless task or conversation that allowed her the numbness and freedom of not thinking. It didn't happen often, however, and she found herself staring at the flagstones or a strangely empty wall, listening for familiar voices in the halls and hearing none.

She thought she might be going crazy, something she had feared in her first weeks and months at Bryland's hideaway. Here, at Highever, the feeling was stronger than ever before.

One evening she found herself in the dim dining hall, sitting across from Fergus on one of his rare stays at the castle. They had forgone protocol and ordered the settings placed at corner of the table, where they could talk freely.

"You're going to hit me," Elissa began, picking at her fish. It was a familiar opening from their childhood, and had often been followed by a playful punch to the shoulder.

Now Fergus didn't even look up from his plate. "Hmm?"

"I'm really sorry I'm saying this," Elissa continued hesitantly, "and I know that it's terrible, believe me, I do know, but—"

"But you think I need to get married again," Fergus said hollowly, still not looking up. "The teyrnir needs an heir, right?"

Elissa lowered her eyes as well. "Yes, but I'm not thinking about the teyrnir. I'm worried about you. You need—someone. You cannot go on like this."

Fergus did look up then. "Someone? A woman I'll make miserable despite my best efforts because she'll always be followed by Oriana's ghost? Any child she will give me will be compared to Oren, and she will have to live in this tomb of a castle…" He sighed. "Do you want to be released from your responsibilities here, is that it? I know it hasn't been easy for you—"

"Don't be an ass, Fergus," Elissa said tiredly. "It hasn't been very easy for you, either. I don't mind my responsibilities; at least they give me some peace, sometimes. But you are alone, and you lost so much… I worry about you, you oaf."

"Silly girl," Fergus said, and reached out across the table to tap her on the forehead with a finger. "We will survive. The Couslands always—"

"Look at us," Elissa said tiredly, not having enough energy for anger. "We are the Couslands now. There is nobody else. Nobody will be able to replace Oriana and Oren, nor," she swallowed, "nor Father and M-mother. But you need someone, Fergus. You are slipping away, one day at a time, and sometimes I wonder if you will ever come back here to this—tomb of a castle, when you're gone on one of your trips."

He looked down at his plate again. "I will never leave you again," he said quietly. "Not if I can help it. Had I known you were alive, all those months, I would have walked naked through the darkspawn horde to get to you. I promise you, you idiot; I'm staying."

Elissa blinked back unexpected tears. "Naked? They would have fled in horror," she said thickly. "I still remember the Frog Accident."

"Oh, you," he said, but there was a tiny smile on his lips, and that was something.

~o0o~

It was a cold spring afternoon, all biting wind and leaden sky, when there were shouts at the gates the clatter of many hooves. Swallowing instinctive panic, Elissa closed the book of household accounts and closed her inkwell before slowly standing up to look out of the window. Knights with familiar black and green shields were milling about in the yard below, as well as some with a design she vaguely recognised: a ship's steering wheel atop a blue wave.

Considering the general mood at the castle and her own state, Elissa was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected arrivals; something that ordinarily should have thrown her into a tizzy about unprepared rooms and insufficient entertainment. Smiling and genuinely happy for the first time since, it seemed, her arrival at Highever, she hurried downstairs.

Arl Bryland, dressed in travelling leathers and a fine cloak, spotted her as soon as she entered the yard and shouldered himself through the mob of knights and horses to sweep her into the familiar, bone-crushing hug.

"My dear girl," he boomed, "it has been too long; I am sorry, I should have come sooner."

Elissa was horrified to find herself near tears. For so long Bryland had been her only friend and protector; to see him now was both wonderful and unexpectedly painful. "Your Grace," she began, "how good to—"

"Nonsense," he said briskly. "You used to call me by my name before."

Elissa give him a sincere smile; her first in many weeks. "Leonas, it's wonderful to see you. Fergus is away, but we are expecting him back tomorrow."

"Good," Bryland said, then turned to somebody, not letting go of her shoulder. "Elissa, do you remember Bann Alfstanna of Waking Sea?"

Elissa curtseyed automatically and held out a hand. "My lady."

Alfstanna, a slight woman with piercing green eyes, had an impressively strong handshake. "Lady Elissa, it is a pleasure to see you again. Leonas has been telling me much of your courage and strength in facing your hardships."

"Leonas is too sentimental," Elissa said dryly, which, while true, didn't lessen her pleasure at the compliment. "I am honoured by your presence. My parents always spoke very highly of you. How is your brother?"

Alfstanna sighed. "Not very well. He was ill for a long time, and is still quite weak. He is recovering at the Chantry in Denerim now."

"Oh," Elissa said, uncertain of what pitfall she had unknowingly stumbled into. "I am sorry to hear it."

"Howe, the bastard, had him locked up in his dungeons," Bryland said angrily. "And Irmnric wasn't the only prisoner there, either."

Elissa swallowed down the blind panic that always overcame her at the mention of Howe's name, even though she knew the man was dead. "Oh."

"They say the Wardens – that is, King Alistair and the Dragonslayer – killed Howe with their own hands," Alfstanna said with relish.

"The Dragonslayer?" Elissa asked in puzzlement. And Maker, it was good to hear about somebody putting Howe to justice.

"The Warden who died slaying the archdemon and ended the Blight," Bryland explained. "They're calling him the Dragonslayer now. Have you heard about Amaranthine?"

"I heard a rumour that the new king gave the entire arling to the Grey Wardens," Elissa said hesitantly. "But I don't know—"

Alfstanna nodded briskly. "It's true. They don't need the arling, of course; just a fortress to train and live at. They deserve that and more after what they've done for us."

Elissa blinked at the onslaught of information, and then remembered her manners. "I apologise, my lady, Leonas. Let us go somewhere warmer while your rooms are being prepared."

She caught the castellan, who was looking wide-eyed with panic, on their way to the main hall and whispered quick arrangements about dinner and sleeping accommodations into his ear before joining Bryland and Alfstanna on the seats before the fire.

"Maker's breath, what happened here?" Bryland said as Elissa sat down. "It looks like a different place: the furniture, the ornaments…" He eyed a dented suit of armour that had been brought in from the family quarters to serve as makeshift decoration.

"Well," Elissa said wryly, "what Howe's men didn't burn they did their best to break or piss on, begging your ladyship's pardon. We had to replace most of the furnishings; some parts of the castle are still bare. Your rooms should be prepared in short order, but I'm afraid your knights will have to lodge in the barracks with our men."

"That is perfectly acceptable," Alfstanna said. Her voice softened. "You poor girl, I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you to come back here, after—" Elissa must have let her expression slip for a moment because Alfstanna shook her head abruptly. "No matter; I apologise for the intrusion. Now, what have you and the teyrn been doing? Has there been much damage by the Blight this far north?"

"None at all," Elissa said, torn between gratitude and annoyance, "if you discount the tide of refugees. It's not even a bad thing, overall, that some decided to stay. Fergus is trying to get everything organised, and doing very well, too. The port and the warehouses are working at full strength again, and we've just had the first ships from Antiva dock last week. But it's a quiet, provincial life here in the North. Do tell me what is happening in the city. How fares," she couldn't quite disguise her grimace, "the new king?"

Bryland and Alfstanna exchanged a glance she couldn't interpret.

"Not too badly, for such a young man," Bryland said carefully. "He has much to learn yet, of course, but for now, when the main task is rebuilding Denerim – the entire country, really – there are few missteps he can make."

Elissa shook her head. "I truly don't understand. The Landsmeet deposed Teyrn Loghain and allowed his execution because he had too much power over the throne, and yet they let Arl Eamon's puppet rule Ferelden? I know he was one of those who saved us from the Blight, but is he a wise choice for the peacetime?"

Bryland gave a short laugh. "Eamon wishes the king was his puppet! There are more advisors crawling over the king than flies over a dog's carcass."

Alfstanna wrinkled her nose. "Charming, Leonas. And then you wonder about Habren's manners." She turned to Elissa. "The king is young and inexperienced, but he is not stupid. So far he is holding out against the pressure, but of course there are fears that he will succumb and become, as you said, the puppet of one side or the other. Not necessarily Eamon, though; surprisingly the king seems to hold him in no particular esteem."

"Is he really Maric's son?" Elissa asked. "There have always been rumours about Maric, of course, but..."

Bryland nodded. "He is, yes. Apparently even Cailan knew about him, and told Anora."

Elissa swallowed. "The queen – he didn't execute her, did he?"

"She isn't the queen any longer," Alfstanna said firmly. "And no, she is alive – they don't say where she is being kept, but people are allowed to request to meet her, and then she is brought to Fort Drakon for the meetings. She says she's being treated very well, considering."

"Considering a usurper is sitting on her husband's throne when it's barely cooled?" Elissa said. At their expressions she threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't speak about the king of Ferelden in such a disrespectful way, but when the king is a nobody, and a Grey Warden – aren't they supposed to not interfere in politics? – and has apparently single-handedly killed the only other teyrn in Ferelden other than my brother and then assumed Anora's throne… what is one to think?"

"There were… exceptional circumstances," Bryland said slowly. "Evidence against Loghain was presented to the Landsmeet, by Anora as well as by Arl Eamon and the Warden, and it was clear that Loghain could not stay in power any longer. And this bast—son of Maric's was the only other choice."

"There was talk about marrying him to Anora," Alfstanna said, "but nothing came out of it. And you are too hasty, Lady Elissa. Kings of stranger ancestry have ruled Ferelden, and ruled it well. So far there is no cause to complain about the boy."

"And when there will be?" Elissa asked. "What then? Another Landsmeet, another civil war? Ferelden needs a strong king. Was the evidence against Teyrn Loghain truly so compelling that a stranger, a boy, was the better choice?"

"Yes," Alfstanna said firmly. "Yes, it was. I don't know how much of what Loghain has done was due to Howe, but there were… terrible things."

Remembering what Bryland had said about Alfstanna's brother, Elissa lowered her head. "Well, then I join you in the hope that the new king will be a blessing for Ferelden. Maker knows, we need one."

Bryland and Alfstanna exchanged another glance, but before either could speak a servant came in to announce that their rooms were ready, if their lordships wanted to refresh themselves before dinner.

Dinner itself was a source of considerable pride for Elissa. They'd always had enough fish in Highever, of course, but now the cook had outdone herself, also producing roasted boar with mushroom sauce as the main course and Orlesian confections for dessert. The extravagant dishes would doubtlessly play havoc with the carefully managed household budget Elissa had spent weeks working on, but it was worth it. She owed her life to Bryland, and feeding him well was the least she could do.

When only the desserts and the strong spirits remained on the table and the servants were gone, Alfstanna leaned back in her chair and fixed Elissa with a direct gaze. "Leonas said to wait, to ease you into the idea slowly, but I think he underestimates you. So I shall be blunt."

"Alfstanna!" Bryland said hurriedly, almost choking on his brandy before he put his glass down. "Not when we've only just arrived!"

"What, and keep her in suspense as to why you took me and half our knights along, if a cosy family friend's visit is all you intended?" Alfstanna said dryly. "No, she deserves the truth."

Not liking this one bit, Elissa carefully put her spoon down and straightened in her seat. "What is your ladyship's meaning?"

Alfstanna steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair. "When we were discussing the new king, earlier, we touched on most of the issues that worry the Landsmeet, or at least the part of it that is more concerned with preventing another civil war than with manoeuvring for power in the shadows."

Elissa nodded cautiously.

"His youth and lack of experience," Alfstanna counted off on her fingers, "his potential weakness as a ruler and thus his potential to become the puppet, as you said, of some noble or a group of them. His shaky status as Maric's heir, a status which means very little, in the end, because it's not his blood that is ruling Ferelden, but the man himself."

"Unless you're a traditionalist like Eamon who thinks a king of the Theirin line is all that Ferelden will ever need," Bryland said darkly. "That man disregarded one of the most capable queens Ferelden had in generations just because she was not of royal blood."

Alfstanna nodded. "Precisely. But the conservative voices in the Landsmeet need to be accounted for as well."

Bryland shrugged impatiently, and reached over to pour himself more brandy.

"His status as a Grey Warden – and I gather that is somehow connected to the heir issue as well," Alfstanna continued.

"What did he do before he joined the Wardens?" Elissa asked curiously. "I heard they take anyone, if one shows enough skill."

"He, ah, was trained as a templar," Bryland said, looking uncomfortable.

"Maker's breath, an oath-breaker?" Elissa exclaimed. This was getting better and better.

"He never took his vows, the Grand Cleric said, and she would know," Alfstanna pointed out. "Apparently he only trained as one."

"So he wasn't trained for anything?" Elissa asked. "Other than fighting and hunting mages – which will be incredibly useful for him now."

"That's about it," Bryland said. "But you mustn't forget, he was part of the handful of people who not only united Ferelden but also managed to convince the Dalish and the dwarves to fight on our side to end the Blight. They apparently also sorted out the succession war in Orzammar, too, though the dwarves are close-mouthed on such matters."

"Yes, but that was about ending the Blight. It merely sounds as if he and that Dragonslayer of his were good Grey Wardens. It doesn't follow that he will he a good king."

Alfstanna nodded. "Exactly." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "What he needs is somebody to support him, somebody with political knowledge and experience, somebody from an old, almost royal, Fereldan family, which would stabilise his shaky position as Maric's bastard." She paused, looking directly at Elissa. "Somebody to give him an heir who would unite the two most important families in the country."

Elissa jerked back in her chair, hitting the back of her head on the wood. "You are joking," she said desperately. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Well, my girl," Bryland said, and Elissa felt irrationally betrayed, "who better than you? You have the knowledge; I know Bryce and Eleanor trained you well. You have the experience, especially now that you have been rebuilding Highever almost single-handedly. And, well, Bryce would have been king instead of Cailan if the conservatives hadn't had their way, six years ago. You are a Cousland, Elissa. You know what that means."

"Duty," Elissa said through numb lips. "We Couslands do what must be done."

Bryland nodded, looking away. "Bryce's motto, yes."

"We are not going to abduct you and marry you off to the king without your consent, Lady Elissa," Alfstanna said calmly. "But it is something to consider, don't you think? At the very least you should meet him and form your own opinion."

Elissa shook her head. "I—I don't know what to think." Forgoing her manners, she stood up, gathering the shreds of her sanity around her like a cloak. "My lord, my lady, the hour is late. Maybe we should continue this discussion tomorrow, when my brother returns. He is my guardian and my liege-lord, after all."

Neither Bryland not Alfstanna mentioned her severe breach of protocol. They both simply stood up as well and waited as Elissa called for servants to guide her guests to their rooms. Both bid her incongruously polite goodnights.

Elissa stayed standing, staring into nothing, her mind awhirl. Had the entire world gone mad, or was it merely Bryland and Alfstanna?

Finally, with a sharp shake of her head to bring herself back into the present, she decided to do as she had said and wait for Fergus' arrival and opinion.

Of course, had she considered it more closely instead of spending the night and half of the next day alternating between anger and shock, she would never have relied on Fergus, of all people, to be the voice of reason.

After greeting Bryland and Alfstanna heartily and allowing himself to be crowded into the study and to listen to the arguments, the first thing he said, grinning, was, "My little sister, the queen of Ferelden! All I can think is what Mother would have said about that!"

Elissa leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. "Fergus, be reasonable! I can't just—just go and marry a natural son of Maric's who found himself on the throne through some very strange circumstances. Besides, has anyone asked him what he thinks?"

"The matter was raised by his advisors more than once," Alfstanna said. "He seemed…"

"Yes?" Elissa prompted, when nothing more was forthcoming.

"Flustered."

Elissa gently banged the back of her head against the wall.

"I can't order you to get married to him," Fergus said, suddenly very serious. "It is his decision, and yours, and if you decide to refuse him, should he offer, I would never force you. I know that our parents never wanted an arranged marriage for you, Elissa. But Bann Alfstanna has a very valid point. Father could have been king, you know."

"That was a single Landsmeet six years ago," Elissa protested.

"Yes, but you weren't there. I was, and I remember how close the vote had been. We are the most important family in Ferelden after the Theirins. Your marriage to the new king would appease quite a few nobles who put value in such things. And you could do it, you could be queen; I have no doubt of it. You are smart, and capable, and educated."

"Thank you," Elissa said dryly. "And let us hope I am also not barren, because that seems to be my main role in this situation: to produce a child of mixed Theirin and Cousland blood and thus ensure the continued stability of Ferelden."

"No," Bryland said unexpectedly. "That is, such a child would indeed be very important. But there are half a dozen old families with marriageable daughters we could have approached. We are talking to you, however, because of who you are, Elissa Cousland, and not because of what your pedigree is."

"Silly," Fergus said with a tired smile. "At least you get to go to Denerim for a week or two. You'll have a break from all this." He gestured vaguely at the bare walls around them. "That alone should be worth it. And I promise you, I would never demand or order you to marry him if you don't want to."

Elissa sighed. A break from Highever sounded wonderful indeed.

"Look at the bright side," Fergus continued with a mischievous grin. "He may not want you either."

And so, with a groan from Elissa and quickly suppressed grins from Bryland and Alfstanna, it was decided.

To Denerim, therefore, she was to go.