A/N: A little explanation about Thomas; I choose him on purpose. I haven't played Awakenings and thus am ignoring its content, since someday I will play it and I don't want to spoil it for myself anymore than needed. Thomas and Delilah are mentioned in the Cousland origin (depending on gender). My research comes between personal game play and .com/wiki/Dragon_Age_Wiki

And sometimes, just sometimes, I say to hell with it and make stuff up. I have never been one to let truth get in the way of a good story.

Speaking of which (oh that wasn't pretentious or anything), thanks to all of you have a reviewed, favorited and alerted it!

Bastards of Ferelden - Chapter 4

Sleepless in Amaranthine

Amaranthine Castle – one month later

For the next few weeks, Elinora was active all over Amaranthine from sun up to sun down, getting the Arling in order. Burion and Orbert hadn't exaggerated; the place was a wreck. One problem would be solved and four others would pop up. And worse was her Wardens general inability to do anything useful. Not one of them was a stonemason or a carpenter, and only one out of her twenty-nine Wardens had served as an apperitence to a blacksmith. At least some of them remembered a thing or two about farming; they might be able to get something grown by winter.

At night she poured over the correspondence, contracts and reports that hadn't been destroyed or stolen. She made list after list, note after note, of things that would help get the place on its feet as both and estate and fortress. There was much work to be done, but Maker knew she had the time to do it.

Elinora couldn't sleep.

At first she thought it was the pallet that she had made for herself on the floor of the master suite, most of the furniture having been destroyed. But truth be told. it was far more comfortable than most nights she had spent camped out. She tried moving it, checked the room for drafts and even shared Alcina and Maphisa's quarters for a night, but nothing helped.

Hope came with a collection of second-hand furniture from Denerim, including a few beds. Alistair had responded well to a somewhat whiny and incoherent letter from her. Unfortunately, she still couldn't sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time.

Elinora knew that if this kept up, she would go mad.

It was the castle, she was sure of it. No matter how she scrubbed it or moved things around, it was still permeated with the history of the Howes. She had spent enough time here as a child to have clear memories of running through the halls with Fergus and the Howe children. They had liked to scare her with ghost stories, but it was the darkness of the place that got to her, even as a child. Elinora Cousland was not afraid of the dark, but something about Amaranthine Castle was just creepy. Recent history and her ownership of the place didn't help at all.

As soon as she could, Elinora would leave this place. That meant finding a good steward to run the estate and choosing a sergeant to lead the training of her Wardens, both new and old. Mother had always said that putting a task to the right party was how things got done. If one was clever, things could run themselves.

All she had to do was find the right people.

Her insomnia did have a positive side, though. If she had been able to sleep, Thomas Howe just might have been able to kill her.

It was a night that she felt, for once, relaxed. She had a bed, had gotten a long bath, and that day had hired an experienced man named Coyle to serve the castle as steward. He came with excellent references and could answer her questions well, even one about her insomnia. Some of the weight was coming off her shoulders.

At Coyle's suggestion and assistance, she had a bath brought up along with a pitcher of mulled red wine. The steward said this combination worked wonders for his mother in her declining years. The bath had certainly been wonderful and the wine set her mind to a pleasant hum. It had been a long time since she had let alcohol get the best of her.

With a warm, muzzy head, she blew out the candles and crawled into a nice, soft bed. And then proceeded to not sleep. As usual.

She was trying a meditation technique, closed eyes and deep breathing, when she heard the door creak. She always made sure her doors creaked. She turned on her belly like any restless sleeper, and found the dagger under her pillow. Still feigning sleep, she listened as the steps grew closer, counting.

Whether it was exhaustion or she didn't know the room as well as she thought she did, her count was off. A blade nicked her throat as she dodged away, flinging her knife arm at her attacker. The blade sliced through something and there was a scream of pain, but she ignored it as she flung herself from her bed and onto her assailant. With a grunt, she stabbed downward.

Thomas Howe lay beneath her, her dagger in his chest and a deep gash across his face. She panted for breath as Thomas dragged in his last ones. "Why?" she whispered.

"Couldn't…" he gasped as red blood started to pour from his mouth. "Revenge… better."

"How did you get in here?" she demanded. Thomas smiled, choked one last time, and went to be judged by the Maker.

She cursed and stood, wincing at the cut on her neck. It wasn't bad, but it stung.

Elinora's mind spun. Lying dead at her feet was one of her childhood friends, a man she might have married. Another life destroyed.

Feet pounded in the hall and her room was filled with Wardens, some in their skivvies. Burion pushed his way to her side, his eyes never leaving the corpse cooling on the floor. "Commander?"

Her eyes stayed on Howe as her breathing slowed and calmed. Elinora pinched the bridge of her nose and focused. "Get him out of here." She squeezed her eyes shut once then looked to her second. "Burion, did you find the Howe family tapestry?"

"Uh…. Yes, Commander." Burion was clearly confused.

"Bring it to my office. As well as tea, strong tea." Elinora stood up straight and looked around at the men in her bedroom, some looking at her with pride, some with condemnation. Orbert looked a little green. "The rest of you, get back to where you belong. If you're not sleeping or on duty, get building a pyre outside the gate. We burn him at dawn."

"Commander, are you sure about this?" Burion held the torch that was waiting to touch off the fires that would obliterate Thomas Howe's earthly remains. He was the Maker's problem now.

Elinora repressed the bark she wanted to give and answered simply, "Yes."

"It just that this is…" Elinora shot Burion a look from her deeply shadowed eyes that would have silenced most men. For him, it simply changed his word choice. "It seems harsh."

"I need to send a clear message, Burion." Her voice was flat and cold. "Light it."

Burion saluted his commander and put the torch to the corner of the Howe family tapestry that was wrapped around the body of Thomas Howe, all but his head. Elinora had been specific about that. She wanted the locals to see who had died that night. She wanted them to see that the Howe family was no more.

At dawn, Wardens had gone into the town to announce the funeral. An hour after sunrise they had brought Thomas's body out, wrapped in the tapestry. The pyre was built of the wrecked furnishings of the castle, including family portraits that had been ruined in the fires before the Wardens got there. Such a detail would probably escape local peasants, but she wanted them to see her erase all traces of the Howe line.

As the pyre blazed, Coyle was brought before her, held by Orbert and Bittan.

"I find it very interesting that the same night you suggest a cure for my insomnia, someone gets Thomas Howe into my room to kill me."

Coyle's gaze remained steadily on her. "A coincidence, my lady."

Elinora studied his face and frowned. "I doubt that very much. You are to leave and never show your face in Amaranthine again. Am I clear?"

Coyle narrowed his eyes. "As a still pond, my lady." Orbert released him with a shove toward the road south. Bittan handed him the sack with his worldly possessions. Coyle started walking without a backwards glance.

Elinora stayed by the pyre all day, watching the flames consume another man who had attacked her. But the time was not spent idly; a great many Amaranthine citizens spoke to her that day, more than she had expected. There were some complaints and concerns, but more friendly overtures that she was expecting. The Howes had never been well loved, though the locals weren't sure about living under the rule of Grey Wardens.

It was time for them to really venture out of the castle. They'd been isolated for too long. The Wardens needed to drink in the pubs (and pay for it), train with the local militia, work the fields, and see that the Arling was maintained.

She could do this, she vowed it.