Gosh, guys, I am sooooo sorry I haven't updated in months! School happened, and then when I finally did get it done, it didn't get edited until months later! Well, here it is; I promise, next chapter should be even more interesting...he he he. Enjoy!
Act V: Brecilian Forest
"You can't be serious," Revan responded when Duncan proposed the idea of her becoming a Grey Warden.
"But I am," he stated in his calm, matter-of-fact way. "We need all the recruits we can get. You have shown that you can more than handle the darkspawn. We have desperate need of your skills."
Revan grimaced, remembering her previous time in Thedas. "I'd be a horrible Grey Warden."
Duncan smiled, his face dimly lit by the light of the waxing moon, but said, "I don't believe that."
"Look," Revan started. "I've done some things in the past that I'm not proud of, and joining the Wardens would bring it all back."
"I don't care what you did in the past," he met her eye, "but we have need of your skills now. Please, we need you. There is a Blight coming, and we Wardens are the only thing standing between it and the people of Thedas. And our ranks are pitifully thin."
Blight…Revan's stomach sank. Those were not the words she wanted to hear. There is a Blight coming…she clutched her head and tried to drown out the memories, the thoughts. Blight…
"But my clan…" she protested as she pushed his haunting news aside.
"I can wait until after the funeral," he assured her. "If you want."
She looked up to the sky, wishing that one of the old elvish gods would descend upon her and grant her some wisdom. But perhaps she needed to be a Warden. Perhaps this was a way to right her past wrongs. Of course, she could never rewrite the past, but maybe, just maybe, she could fix it. Otherwise, there would be even more blood on her hands.
"All right," she assented after a moment of contemplation. "I will join the Wardens. After the funeral."
Duncan grinned in a fatherly way and clapped her on the shoulder. "I will speak with your Keeper, then."
He left, and Revan felt compelled to seek Fenarel out. He was her closest friend, and she needed to tell him. She found him outside his aravel, gazing up at the stars. Revan took a seat next to him.
"Why did it have to be them, Mi'harel?" he asked quietly.
"I've been asking myself that same question," she responded solemnly. There was a pause as they both took a measure of comfort in being near a friend during the devastatingly mournful hours of the night.
"Duncan wants me to become a Grey Warden," she finally told him.
Fenarel gave a small nod, as if expecting another blow to land. "When?"
"After the funeral."
He grunted. They sat in silence for another minute. A silent tear slid down Revan's cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.
"Should I do it?" she inquired. "Become a Warden, I mean."
Fenarel took a long look at the heavens above. "Before you came here, before you fell from the sky that day, I had a dream. There was a woman standing in front of a huge, malevolent dragon covered in spikes with red eyes. The woman had her back to me, but she had black hair, and she stood like a warrior. Then, wings sprouted from her back and she became a dragon. She fought the other dragon bitterly, and though she won, she died after her victory. After the other dragon died, this feeling of…light returned. I thought it was just a weird dream, but then you killed that high dragon, and you had her black hair. I don't know, maybe I'm crazy, but it seemed like a sign to me." He turned his head and met her eye. "I believe that there is something great that you must do, but I have no clue as to what it is. But I'm pretty sure you cannot accomplish it here among the Dalish. So yes, I think you should do it."
Revan took his hand and squeezed it as she stood up. "Thank you," she whispered quietly before she dropped his hand. He looked away, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. She went back to Ashalle's empty aravel to pack. Minutes later, Marethari walked in as Revan was fingering the dragon's tooth hanging on a thong around her neck.
"So," Marethari looked around the space, "you are to become a Grey Warden."
"If you'll permit me to, Keeper," she responded respectfully, her hand still clutching the tooth.
"Of course I'll permit you to!" the Keeper said defensively, then shook her head in a tired fashion. "I'm too old for this much excitement. I should be meditating in some ancient ruin until both my mind and body have worn away. This Blight is for you young people. But enough of my ramblings. I came to give you my blessing, Mi'harel, not my complaints."
Revan smiled sadly. "I don't want to leave, you know."
"I know, dear," Marethari assured her as she took Revan's cold hands. "But you have to. You have much to do."
Revan furrowed her brow at the comment. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing, dear, nothing," Marethari squeezed her hands and met her gaze. "I wanted to say good luck. May Mythal protect you, and may the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."
"Thank you, Keeper," Revan lowered her eyes, both in respect and to hide her tears.
Marethari smiled warmly at her, then with a final squeeze, turned and started to leave.
"Keeper," Revan called her back.
Marethari turned back. "Yes?"
"When I was given my vallaslin, Merrill said you gave her the design and told her to practice it until it was perfect. She claimed that you said I would need them. It's been bothering me for a while now, but I need to know: why would I need them?"
The Keeper sighed. She looked reluctant to speak, but did anyway.
"When I was a young First," she started, "I was sent into the Korcari Wilds. My Keeper told me that if I survived one week, alone, in the Wilds, he would teach me everything about magic that I ever wanted to know. It was an initiation of sorts. Well, I was a fool, and I got lost the second day. That was when Asha'bellanar found me."
"Asha'bellanar? The witch?" Revan asked incredulously. "But Paivel said she was just a legend!"
"Yes, well, our beloved storyteller is not privy to all truths," Marethari said. "Anyway, Asha'bellanar found me, and she took me to her little cottage at the southern edge of the Wilds. She sat me down and said I would see much in my life. She said I would see much death and destruction and misery, but she said that I would see much happiness as well. She was the strangest person I have ever met. She taught me some spells to help me survive, and told me that in return, I would have to help her in the future. Well, I readily agreed. So about a week before you came, she appeared in the forest. I went to her, and she handed me a drawing. She told me that one similar to her would arrive soon, and that the drawing would help her control her powers. Then she vanished. So, I complied. I don't know what powers you might have, and honestly I don't want to know. If you really want to know why those markings will help you, you yourself should seek her out."
Revan closed her eye as she absorbed what the Keeper told her. Then, she looked up and met the Keeper's motherly gaze.
"Thank you, Keeper," she bowed.
Marethari smiled. "The funeral is tomorrow. I should leave you to your packing. And, Mi'harel?"
"Yes?"
"There will always be a place for you here, in the clan," she stated. Revan gave her another sad smile, and she left.
The funeral was a grave affair. Everyone at camp had liked the young Dalish, and she was like a daughter to almost everyone since her parents had passed. Revan stood next to Fenarel while Merrill assisted Marethari in the ceremony. Duncan stood at the fringes of the crowd, impassively observing the wake. It wasn't that he was cold, just that he seemed detached, like he had bigger worries on his mind. The funeral was short, but it was painful. Lyna had been a good friend; she hadn't deserved to die. Revan felt guilty that she hadn't been the one in the ruins that day. But, she knew that she couldn't change that fact. Lyna was gone, and that was that.
She left immediately after they had planted the tree upon her grave. Those she passed touched her shoulder in a silent farewell. They were saddened to see so many of their clan be taken away, but they understood that the outside world had more need of her than they. Duncan waited as Revan gave Merrill one last hug, and then with a hand on her back, led her away from her clan. She wouldn't see them again for years.
Duncan, once they started traveling, turned out to be pleasant company. He knew much about Thedas that Marethari hadn't, and freely shared it without asking her why she didn't know it. By the end of their journey together, she could easily pass as a well-worn traveler in any of the countries in Thedas. During the day, they walked briskly along the main roads and talked. At night, they would eat and spar before sleeping. Duncan used the same style she did, wielding two swords in order to deal more damage. Soon, they had developed a healthy rivalry, much like siblings had since they were so evenly matched in skill. Still, despite the pleasant travel, Revan couldn't shake the depression looming around her. She couldn't seem to shake the guilty feeling she had over Lyna's death and Tamlen's disappearance. Their loss had been…difficult for her. She had never been good at losing friends. She had even cried when she had killed Malak, even though she could barely remember him from her previous life.
When she asked Duncan where they were going, he had said they were headed to a place in the north, a town called Highever, before going south to meet up with the king's army. Upon further questioning, he told her that he had heard of another promising recruit living in the castle. She gave him a suspicious glance, but otherwise said nothing. They would go to Highever to see this potential recruit.
Highever was one of the largest cities in Ferelden, or so Duncan had told her. Of course, nothing could compare with the cities Revan had seen in her life, but for a planet with few occupants, Highever was quite large. And surprisingly clean, given the lack of indoor plumbing. Obviously whoever had designed the city had been fed up with the overpowering stench of waste.
The castle itself was nestled on a rocky hill with three shear faces. It was not constructed for beauty, but for defense, and its austere appearance reflected that fact. However, the town was not being attacked or otherwise threatened, so patrols were light, and the guards at the door seemed relaxed. They let them in to the castle with barely a word said. It was as if the supposed Blight was some distant happenstance.
A middle-aged steward with thinning brown hair greeted them as they entered the stone keep. He was very sharp, but very formal.
"Hello, ser and sera, to Castle Highever. May I inquire what your business here is?"
Duncan put on his charming face. "Actually, I have come to speak with the Teyrn. I am a Grey Warden."
At this, the man perked up. "A Grey Warden, you say? Please, follow me, ser and sera!"
Revan exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Duncan, but they followed the steward willingly.
"He will probably be in his study," the steward informed them without looking back, "finishing up the last-minute details."
"Details for what?" Revan boldly asked.
The steward was obviously used to belligerent women. "The Teyrn has been called to Ostagar by the king. Most noble houses have."
"Hmm," Revan responded.
The castle was, if nothing else, well-lit. It had plenty of windows and open courtyards and roaring fireplaces, so there was always an abundance of light. They passed a great hall along their way to his study, as well as the kitchens and library. The place was teeming with people and soldiers, all scrambling to prepare for their departure. Revan felt awkward taking these peoples' precious time away for something so seemingly unimportant. However, she knew from experience that Grey Wardens could be the difference between life and death when facing the darkspawn.
The steward stopped at a closed oak door and knocked softly. They heard a muffled "Come in!" The steward opened the door and proceeded to apologize for the interruption, but stated that there was a Grey Warden wanting to see him.
Duncan strode forward and held out his hand. "Greetings, Teyrn Cousland. I am Duncan, and this Dragonheart, my newest recruit."
The Teyrn was a grey-haired but handsome man who had aged impeccably well. He had laugh lines around his eyes and had the general appearance of a good, just ruler with too many problems. He stood slightly from his seat behind the desk and took Duncan's hand warmly.
"It is an honor to have a Grey Warden visit. Though, I must apologize for this mess and confusion. We only received the summons to Ostagar a few days ago."
Revan liked the man already. Duncan smiled at his geniality. "It is no problem, ser. Actually, we came here because I had heard there were several promising warriors living here, and, as you know, we need all the recruits we can get."
"Ah, you mean Ser Gilmore?" the Teyrn suggested. "He is an excellent warrior and a good man. I'm sure he would make an excellent Warden."
"I have no doubt," Duncan said doubtfully.
"Right, where are my manners? I will have Jonathan prepare your rooms. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable."
The Teyrn gestured to his steward, who gave him a curt nod and left to prepare the rooms. She and Duncan crossed their arms and bowed respectfully, and then left. Once they were out of earshot, Revan began interrogating the Grey Warden.
"Why do I have the feeling we aren't here for Ser Gilmore?" she asked casually.
"Because we aren't," Duncan said honestly. "I'm more interested in the Teyrn's daughter."
"His daughter? She's not some frilly noblewoman?"
"No. She was trained by the men of the castle to be a warrior from a very young age. My reports indicate that she has a head for command," Duncan informed her.
Revan shrugged. "So, what now?"
"I need more information on her character. You, however, are free to do as you wish."
"One more question: how did you know about his daughter?"
Duncan remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Sometimes we get…dreams. Premonitions, if you want. Not all Wardens have them, but they often are accurate. I sometimes get premonitions about possible candidates."
All these premonitions seemed to Revan like traces of the Force. But she held herself in check. If she said anything, they would look at her like she was crazy. "Did you have a premonition about me?"
Duncan smiled, "Yes, actually, I did."
Revan smiled back, bowed, and then took her leave. He looked after her as she left, and then he continued on his quest for knowledge. Revan, too, was seeking knowledge, but of a different kind. Moments later, she was in the library, her nose stuffed in a history book. A stack of more old books was piled next to her. The library was not huge, but neither was it pitifully small. A roaring hearth provided all the light needed to read by. Except for one old scholar who was trying to teach two young squires some history, the library was empty. The books Revan had chosen were thick, musty old tomes filled with prose and postulating. Luckily, all those years of reading history texts at the Jedi Academy allowed her to consume the books at a faster pace than most scholars. Soon, she was completely brushed up on Ferelden history for the last thousand or so years. Finished in the library, Revan decided to wander Castle Cousland for a bit.
The servants and soldiers paid her no mind as she wandered. Soon, drawn by a cacophony of barking and banging and screaming, Revan found herself in the kitchens. The cook was an elderly lady with a bit of a temper, who was screaming at everyone and everything. Two elf servants cowered in front of her as she screeched about a dog in the larder. Revan, leaning against the doorframe, found the situation quite comic. Until she walked in.
A young, gorgeous girl about Lyna's age strolled leisurely into the room, her eyes expertly scanning the room as a general would scan a battlefield. She was obviously the Teyrn's daughter: she had his bearing and his bone structure. However, her eyes were what Revan noticed first. They were dark brown, almost black, but what was really startling was their intensity. Revan had met few people in the galaxy with eyes like hers, and those people didn't need the Force to persuade others to do their bidding. Her eyes said everything without her saying a word. However, Revan had seen the secret look in her eyes more times than she cared to remember. It was a hungry look, like the look that one hunter had given her on Tatooine, or the scum in the cantinas gave the dancers. If she wanted, she could look at a man in a certain way, and he would be in her bed in less than five minutes. But the girl was a noble, and she held her hunger back with practiced ease. She was a perfect specimen of nobility, with a perfect face and white, creamy skin. Her fiery red hair was bound back in a braid, as if ready to be gathered in a helm on a moment's notice. Though she wasn't as tall as Revan, she was lean and fit, and her leather armor suited her well. Revan could see why Duncan thought she'd be a promising recruit.
Behind her was a large, muscular man with orange hair and a Cousland shield strapped to his back. Revan assumed he was Ser Gilmore. He seemed awkward, as if he hadn't quite grown into his height and bulk yet. The Cousland strode into the room and, upon seeing the cook freaking out, broke out into a grin.
The cook gathered herself. She turned to the elves. "Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!"
The female servant trembled, "But mistress, it won't let us near!"
"If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin both you useless elves, I swear it!" she screeched.
Ser Gilmore stepped forward. "Err…calm down, good woman. We've come to help—"
The cook turned on them. "You! And you!" she stared angrily at them. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! He should be put down!"
The expression on the girl's face was both amused and irritated. It was obvious she wanted to retort back something utterly inappropriate, but years of trained held her tongue. Instead, she replied, "I'm sorry, Nan. I'll try to control him better."
The cook, Nan, sighed. "Just…just get him gone. I have enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers."
A smile lit itself upon her face, and she and Ser Gilmore entered the larder. Revan waited, wanting to see what would happen next. There was much barking, followed by the faint sound of steel hitting flesh. However, Nan was too busy barking orders to the poor, tormented servants to notice. She was disgusted by the way elves were treated, but she was painfully aware that she was in no position to help them. Plus, from what Duncan had told her about city elves, these two were probably treated better than most.
Ser Gilmore emerged from the pantry, followed by the girl and a huge, almost monstrous dog that was leaping and bounding around her. Revan saw bits of blood drying on his coat. Finally the girl noticed her presence. She seemed slightly perturbed at Revan's laxness, but she approached Revan anyway.
"I don't believe we've met before." Her voice rose and fell with a certain musical quality that Revan's ears followed with delight.
"No, we haven't," Revan responded glibly. The girl smiled broadly, a genuine smile, and not the fake smile nobility put on for show.
The girl appraised Revan for a moment, sizing her up, and then decided she liked Revan. "I am Rose Cousland, daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland. And you are…?"
"Some call me Dragonheart," Revan said, taking the hand Rose offered her.
"You're Dragonheart?" the girl asked incredulously.
"Yes," Revan tilted her head in suspicion. "Why?"
"You are all the soldiers can talk about. 'Did you hear about that woman Dalish?' 'I heard she was a Witch of the Wilds.' 'Well, I heard she was seven feet tall and consumes her enemies with fireballs from her eyes and lightning bolts from her arse.' That kind of thing," Rose did her best imitation of the soldiers, and then shrugged. "Some of them have even bet whether they could…well, you know what soldiers think."
"Yes, that I do," Revan said wistfully. She was surprised how friendly this girl of noble birth was to her. She was not at all what Revan had been expecting.
"Well, with the preparations for Ostagar, I'm sure no one gave you a proper tour, did they?" she asked politely. "Come, I'll show you around, if you don't mind having to stop and talk to my brother."
"Why would I mind?" Revan responded with a small smile. With a broad grin, Rose glided out of the room and back into the main castle.
"Pardon me asking, but why do we need to speak with your brother?" Revan inquired as they neared one of the many mess halls.
"He's going with my father to Ostagar, but my father is going to leave with the Arl tomorrow because of some confusion. So, I have to tell him to leave tonight," Rose said absently, her dog padding along beside her. "You know, it seems to me like a complete waste of time to train your daughter to fight only to send her on trivial errands."
Revan chuckled at this. "So, who is this Arl?"
"Oh, Arl Rendon Howe," she answered. "He is one of my father's closest friends. I personally think he's a snake."
"Is that so?" Revan said, only mildly interested.
"Yes, indeed," Rose replied distractedly. "Oh Maker, Lady Landra is here."
Revan perked up. "Who?"
"Bann Loren's wife," the noble informed her. "She was here for my mother's spring salon, at which she proceeded to get drunk and tried to convince me to marry her son."
She looked up the cobblestone ramp to where two older ladies were chatting away with a tall, barrel-chested young man standing close by and a small blonde handmaiden waiting respectfully near one of the ladies. All were dressed in finery, in contrast to Rose's armor and Revan's dark traveling clothes. The man, whom Revan assumed was the Bann's son, was actually quite handsome.
"Well, he doesn't look that bad," she commented.
Rose grinned, the hungry glint flashing in her dark eyes. "No, not bad at all. Strange, I didn't seem to notice last time."
Rose continued up the ramp, and Revan, seeing no alternative at the moment, followed her awkwardly.
A polite, charming smile found its way onto Rose's face, the mask of noble grace hiding her obvious desire to go about her duties. However, she did seem a tad interested in the young man. One of the ladies, the handmaiden, and the man looked up at their arrival. The shorter of the two, the one who still hadn't noticed their approach, was a gray-haired woman that had still retained her beauty even into her golden years. With a fierce proudness in her bearing and dark eyes, it was apparent that she was Rose's mother. The other, presumably Lady Landra, was slender and pretty, but she had not aged half as well as the Teyrna. The Teyrna had been deep in conversation with the other, older woman when they approached. Rose patiently waited for her mother to notice her arrival.
The Teyrna swiveled her head to get a good look at her daughter. "Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound that the situation in the kitchens has been taken care of?"
"Yes, mother," Rose put on her most charming smile. "And Nan will be continuing her service here as our most esteemed cook."
"And who is this?" the Teyrna inquired, ignoring Rose's veiled sarcasm as she appraised Revan.
"Ah, yes. This is Dragonheart. She is travelling with the Grey Warden that just arrived," Rose politely supplied.
The group seemed mildly surprised by both her identity and the news of a Grey Warden in the castle.
The Teyrna broke the awkward silence quickly. "Rose, dear, you remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?"
Lady Landra regained her composure. "I believe we last met at your mother's spring salon."
"Of course. It is good to see you, milady," Rose curtsied politely, though Revan could tell she was not at all thrilled about the purportedly annoying woman being there. Revan bowed stiffly before stepping back behind Rose. She knew she had no place in this circle of nobility. And they knew she had no place there, too.
"You are too kind," Lady Landra continued. "If I remember right, I spent half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son."
"And making a very poor case for it, I might add," the strapping lad, Dairren, added. He had a cultured voice, which, from what Revan had thus far noticed, was common for nobles. Revan noticed he carried a rapier strapped to his belt, carefully arranged so that only those looking for it would have noticed.
"My son, Dairren. He's not married, either," Lady Landra said with little subtlety.
"Don't listen to her," Dairren said playfully. "It is good to see you again, milady. You are looking as beautiful as ever. And it is wonderful to meet you as well, Dragonheart. Stories of you have spread quickly." Revan bowed her head in acknowledgement of the comment as Rose smiled seductively.
Lady Landra pursed her lips at the last part. Obviously, the Dalish were still a sensitive topic. "And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona." The shy, blonde maiden was staying as silent as Revan, but curtsied submissively at the introduction. "Do say something, girl!" Lady Landra demanded.
"It is a great pleasure, mistresses," she raised her eyes slightly, glancing timidly at Revan. To Rose, she added, "You are as pretty as your mother describes, Lady Rose."
"And she says this after seeing you whacking stuffed men in the courtyard, sweating like a mule," the Teyrna commented.
Revan barely stifled a guffaw as Rose blushed slightly.
"Your daughter's prowess with the blade is most impressive," Dairren added smoothly, trying to put Rose at ease.
"I was quite the battle maiden myself, in my day," the Teyrna mentioned, "but I think it was the softer arts that helped me land a husband."
Rose smiled pleasantly at her before facing Dairren again. "We should catch up. Perhaps we should speak alone sometime, Dairren?"
He smiled charmingly, "I would like that, my lady."
Landra suppressed a yawn and turned to the Teyrna. "I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear. Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper."
"I suppose we'll retire to the study for now," Dairren informed her, but Revan could tell the comment was not entirely intended for his mother's benefit.
"Good evening, your Ladyship. Rose; Dragonheart," Lady Landra said the last awkwardly, not quite sure what Revan's position was. Revan wasn't so sure, either.
As the Bann's wife and son turned and left, the Teyrna gave Rose a reproachable look. "Darling…"
"What?" Rose asked innocently. Revan could tell she was itching to leave. By the Teyrna's softening face, Revan could see she could tell too.
"Very well, go. Just…do be careful, darling," the Teyrna said. Rose bounded off after Dairren, leaving Revan alone with the older woman.
"Ah, youth," the Teyrna shook her head. "Uncontrollable, unstoppable, and yet so very predictable sometimes."
Revan smiled. "You have a wonderful daughter, Teyrna."
"Please, it's Eleanor," she waved the rules of society, just as Rose had done. "And I'm not sure how 'wonderful' she is when she goes around sleeping with every good-looking buffoon who passes through Highever." Revan raised an eyebrow at this startling comment. "Oh, it's not like you weren't thinking of it," the Teyrna responded. "But look at me; I'm becoming worse than Rose! Where are my manners?"
The Teyrna took a seat in one of the nearby benches and gestured for Revan to sit across from her. "I apologize again. Something about talking to other noble ladies drives me a tad crazy. Perhaps it's their constant insipidness. Or the fact that the only thing they seem capable of talking about is their families and the latest fashions. So, tell me: is it true that you are actually a…Dalish?"
"Yes," Revan smiled sadly at the thought of her friends. "I was taken in by the clan a few months ago."
"That must be fascinating!" Eleanor replied. "Most of the other nobles think the Dalish are just a bunch of crazy vagabonds that aren't much better than a pack of wolves. I'm glad that someone is finally trying to understand them better.
"And you are also to become a Grey Warden? That, my dear, is absolutely fascinating! A Grey Warden is a thing to be proud of, to be sure. Oh, I remember the days when Maric was king and Grey Wardens weren't so loved. But that was a long time ago, and a new age has begun, where Ferelden is a land of peace. Except for this damned-awful threat of a Blight, of course. I still think it was a wise choice to train Rose to fight, even if most of the other nobles disagree with us making our daughter into a proud warrior. You know, I was a battle maiden myself, in the days of my youth. But back then, it was almost a necessity. But I've mentioned this before, haven't I? Oh dear, here I am droning again!"
"Teyr-Eleanor," Revan caught herself, "why are you even talking to me? I am not nobility, nor am I a person of importance. I can't help but be…" she searched for the proper word.
"Confused?" Eleanor supplied. "I know. I assume that Rose also was forward, like me?"
"Yes," Revan said slowly, puzzled.
The Teyrna smiled warmly. "We have a gift in my family. We can tell the character of a person upon meeting them. You, dear, have an excellent character, much like my husband Bryce. You are good, despite seeming to have suffered much in your past. And you don't judge others. That is why we treat you like a real person, not like a noble or servant."
An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Revan broke it and asked, "Excuse my curiosity, Eleanor, but why have you not married Rose off already? She would make a lovely bride, no?"
The Teyrna gave her a sly grin. "Bryce and I believe that a marriage should be one of love, not political advantage. We are letting our children have a freedom that so few seem to enjoy these days. Which is also why we let Rose learn to fight."
"And sleep with whomever she wants?" Revan asked.
"That, too."
The Teyrna continued talking for a while. Revan patiently listened to the woman for some time, gleaning what she could from this woman's amiable chatter. Given how little she knew of any of Ferelden's customs, she was happy when Eleanor began describing life in the court. Apparently Cailan, the current king of Ferelden, was a pleasant, if idealistic, young man who had inherited his father's charm and a bit of his folly. He had married the daughter of one of his father's closest advisors, Teyrn Loghain, who still managed and controlled Ferelden's army. At the mention of Duncan, Eleanor went off on a long spiel about the strange episode when the Wardens came to Ferelden to prevent the Blight and took King Maric with them. Apparently, Duncan had been one of those Wardens.
During this conversation, Teyrn Bryce came and stood, waiting for his wife to notice his presence.
"Darling, I'm afraid the time has come for us to see off Fergus," he announced when she looked up.
Eleanor sighed. "I've never been one for good-byes. You know that, dear."
"Yes, but we must," his smiled encouragingly. She sighed again, but stood anyway, bidding Revan farewell. She smiled sadly in return, and headed back to the library.
She was summoned to the banquet table when dinner was ready, but the rest of the family was so busy sending Fergus and the rest of the soldiers off that Revan saw very little of them. Duncan told her that he still had business to attend to, so just to entertain herself as she wished. The steward had rooms prepared for them when she wished to retire. So, of course, Revan decided to forego sleep and continue in her perusing of the library. Her Jedi training allowed her to go for days without sleep, as long as she could meditate. And there was no telling when she would next get the chance to read.
Hours later, through pages and pages of dense text, Revan detected noise in the corridors outside. She dismissed it, until the door of the library was kicked down by armored soldiers and the old scholar run through in front of her eyes. With a cry of outrage, Revan exploded with power, and arcs of blue lightning shot through the air from her outstretched hand and into the enemy soldiers. The air crackled, giving off the acrid smell of ozone as it mixed with the metallic scent of blood and singed hair. The soldiers collapsed to the ground and spasmed violently as the electricity overloaded their nervous system. Revan broke the connection, which left her feeling drained. The soldiers trembled for a few more seconds before their bodies lay still and smoking. She stared in shock for a minute before shakily getting to her feet. Revan was no stranger to killing, but to just cut down an innocent like they had…
She stood over the small group of soldiers, scanning them and judging their armor and weapons. They were wearing a mix of iron chainmail and leather, with iron and steel swords. A few of them bore shields, and a couple of shields had linen crests stretched across their surface. Revan didn't recognize it, but tore one off and stuffed it in her shirt. Perhaps, if she survived this night, she could use it to find out who had ordered this surprise attack.
Revan drew her swords and stepped cautiously into the castle's corridors. She heard distant screams as more people were brutally slaughtered in their sleep. Acutely aware of their distress, she knew that the best chance of surviving was if they secured the castle gates before dispatching of the other soldiers. If she didn't, there would just be endless waves of soldiers to defeat.
She headed downstairs, through burning timbers and piled rubble, dispatching patrols of enemies as they appeared. The castle seemed to be overrun with soldiers. She tried to spare as many of their lives as possible by slashing at their arms and legs, but time was of the essence. She couldn't afford to be pretty. Soon, her nice shirt was soaked through with blood. She was half tempted to tear it off, but resisted the urge. Though, it could serve as a fine distraction…
The doors to the great hall were locked, but she could still hear the sounds of fighting inside. With one powerful kick, the door swung open to reveal Duncan, Teyrn Cousland, and Ser Gilmore fighting with a handful of soldiers against waves of enemy soldiers. Revan rushed to join the fray, fighting ferociously enough to drive some of the soldiers back. Her blades twirled in a deadly dance that was constantly tearing screams of agony from their victims. And yet, for every soldier she killed, another seemed to take his place. She barred her teeth and fought harder, forcing more and more back until she stood at the gates. Duncan was fighting next to her. Focusing all her strength and energy on the door, she pulled it shut with her mind, the Force as her weapon. The bar dropped down, giving them a moment to breathe.
"I'm glad to see you're still alive, Dragonheart," Duncan said, a little relieved.
Revan smiled back, "And I you."
They turned around to see Ser Gilmore kneeling next to the Teyrn, who was groaning and clutching his side. His shirt was stained red, but who the blood belonged to was debatable. She and Duncan rushed to his side.
"I need…to find my wife…and daughter," Teyrn Bryce said through clutched teeth.
"I don't think you're in any condition to move, milord," the knight said.
"I need to find them," he repeated stubbornly, "and then…find Howe. He will pay…for his…treachery."
"We will help you," Duncan said kindly, offering his hand to the man. The Teyrn took it, and Duncan gently pulled him up. Revan could tell that the man was in no condition to fight, and she herself was in no condition to heal him. She had barely enough energy left to stand.
"Let me see what I can do," she offered anyway. Teyrn Bryce looked at her, confused, but Revan ignored the startled looks as she knelt down and focused her power, knitting the flesh as much she could with what little power she had left. The large gash healed until it was barely bleeding, but he was still too weak and wounded to fight properly. The men seemed both startled and impressed that she was a mage, as she could tell from their expressions.
Revan fell back in exhaustion, staring at the ceiling as feeling returned to her hands and her heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm. Duncan moved so he was kneeling over her.
"We need to move," he told her.
"I know," Revan responded as she reluctantly took the hand he proffered.
"Ser Gilmore, you are to stay here with the men and guard the gates as long as you can," the Teyrn instructed him.
"But—"
"That's an order!" he commanded before spinning on his heels and heading out the other side of the hall, towards the kitchens. She and Duncan followed him out. And then they were ambushed. The men had been waiting for someone to come out of the door. Immediately they pounced upon the Teyrn, giving him barely enough time to draw his sword again. One slashed him solidly in the stomach, and he collapsed. Revan positioned herself skillfully in front of the Teyrn in a defensive position. Soon, between her and Duncan, they dispatched the soldiers. The Teyrn was in critical condition as Revan leaned down and inspected the wound. If he didn't get aid soon, he would parish from it. And she didn't have the strength to do it. He and Duncan knew it, too.
"Just get me to the servant's exit in the larder," the Teyrn said. "And then find my wife and daughter."
Duncan nodded in silent assent. They all knew what his fate would be.
She grabbed one of the Teyrn's arms as Duncan grabbed the other and together dragged him to the kitchens, being as gentle as they could. The cook and her servants were already dead, their bodies lying prostrated on the floor. It was a gruesome scene, one they tried their best to ignore. They kicked open the door to the larder and helped the Teyrn inside. He wasn't doing well.
"Go; find them," he pleaded. "I'll be okay by myself."
She exchanged a knowing look with Duncan, but they obliged his wish. They closed the door in the vain hope that the soldiers wouldn't find the secret exit. Duncan headed out of the kitchens and began heading down the hall in search of enemies to kill. Revan was right behind him. They moved through the halls, killing any enemy soldiers they encountered, leaving them lying lifeless in pools of their own blood. After a while, Revan heard the faint sound of barking. She paused, straining her ears as Duncan stopped and spun around, wondering what was causing her to stop. The barking was coming from the kitchens.
"I think someone found him," Revan informed Duncan. He spun without a word and ran toward the kitchens, but instead of strangled screams they heard voices talking. One sounded like Eleanor. Duncan gestured to Revan to guard the door, then entered himself. As soon as he left, Revan breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was less of a chance of them dying now. She knew from experience that being split up was extremely dangerous, because no one ever stayed in one spot and waited to be found.
Revan heard Rose as she thanked Duncan for assisting her father. Duncan then responded with some qualifying statement that Revan couldn't make out because of the sound of wood splintering, which was followed immediately by a loud crunch as the castle's gates fell.
Revan peeked around the doorframe, getting the attention of the others. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but they just broke through the gates. Whatever you are planning to do, it needs to be done soon."
The Couslands all exchanged worried glances as Revan returned to her position as guard. The soldiers would find them. It was only a matter of time, now. She crouched, prepared to strike, and listened as the Teyrn told Duncan to take his wife and daughter to safety. But Duncan demanded a price.
"Wait, wait!" Revan heard Rose cry. "Me, a Grey Warden? But what about—"
"We came for you, not Ser Gilmore," Duncan told them honestly. Silence followed.
After a pause, the Teyrn answered. "If that is what it takes, then I accept. Just…get them out of here."
"I will not leave you," Rose protested.
"Nor will I," Eleanor responded.
"Please," the Teyrn pleaded. "Accept his offer, Pup. Get out with your lives. Then, you can avenge me and kill Howe."
"No!" Rose responded hotly. "Father..."
Revan spun around and entered the larder, much to the surprise of everyone. "Look, in five minutes we're all going to be dead. Whatever you are going to do, decide. Now."
Rose bowed her head. "I am so sorry, father."
"Please, go, Pup," he assured her.
She turned and looked Duncan square in the face. "If you will take me and my mother to safety, I will become a Grey Warden."
Duncan nodded in solemn assent, but Eleanor looked uncomfortable.
"Go, dear. I will only slow you down. I'll stay here and shoot every bastard that comes through that door," Eleanor told her, tears glistening in her eyes as she cradled the Teyrn's head in her lap.
Rose grasped her mother's hand. "I am so sorry, mother, father. I love you both, so much."
"We love you too, dear. Go, become a Grey Warden. Live your life," Eleanor exchanged one final glance with her daughter before pulling out her bow and knocking an arrow. Revan strode in and, taking the stunned Rose by the shoulders, led her into the dank, dark, narrow tunnel of the servant's exit, followed by her hound.
Revan guided Rose, still petrified by the shock of losing her parents, through the pitch blackness of the tunnels, with only one of Revan's magic balls of floating light to guide them. They were in the tunnels for what seemed like hours; finally, when the mage light was at its dimmest, they came to an old, wooden door. Duncan leaned his shoulder into the panels and pushed and, with a cacophony of squeals from the rusted hinges, the door opened to reveal the moonlit plains just outside of Highever. Far in the distance, the moon illuminated the long, winding road that led to their fate: Ostagar.