I do not own Dragon Age.
Lilliwyn is my beta-reader. Do go and check out her stories!
I do introduce a new OC this chapter; his name (Ser Lieranc) is pronounced [leer AHNK].
Messages and reviews of any kind are encouraged and appreciated. Enjoy!
The Commander's dreams varied little that evening, her tossing and turning waking Zevran more than once throughout the night. The assassin was never upset when he awoke, his lecherous thoughts subsiding once he noticed just how distressed his companion was, even in slumber.
In truth, Cirrenes dreamed not of the darkspawn, but of memories that still served as regrets were she to linger on them for too long in her mind. The yelling and general unhappiness of the Landsmeet had taken the forefront of her nightmares, accented by random darkspawn filling the chamber though none seemed to notice. "I'll not stand by this man and call him a brother!" Alistair snarled, his glare directed first at Loghain before turning to the woman he claimed to love so dearly.
Darkness loomed like clouds before the storm, Cirrenes vainly attempting to persuade her lover of her decision. "If he...goes, then I won't," Alistair finally murmured quietly, time slowing as Cirrenes digested the information. Tainted claws pawed at her leathers as she froze in place, her eyes wide and unbelieving. Had Alistair truly threatened to leave if he was not allowed his own way?
"You are acting like a child, Alistair," Cirrenes hissed, the bastard prince taking a step back as though he were forcefully slapped in the face. "Yes, this man is the cause of many brave peoples' deaths, but he is still a formidable warrior. Why not grant him mercy before his certain death? Or perchance you would rather stoop to his level?" Cirrenes continued, the nobles beginning to speak in hushed tones amongst themselves.
"I'm to be king, am I not? I demand this man executed!" Alistair attempted with a firm tone, his eyes never once moving to linger on Cirrenes. A few guards twitched in their positions, clearly torn between acting out the order and waiting for someone to dismiss it.
Lightning sounded in the room before Cirrenes cleanly stepped to Alistair, her clenched fists shaking with unadulterated fury. "Killing Loghain will not bring back Duncan, Alistair!" Cirrenes spoke through grit teeth, hardened blue eyes boring into him relentlessly. "If you desire someone's blood so passionately, then take mine," Cirrenes then tossed one of her blades at his feet, the metal clanking once onto the stone floor as a few nobles gasped their surprise.
Alistair's gaze landed on the sword before he met Cirrenes' eyes, the smoldering brown irises filling with a searing expression. Swallowing, Alistair took a step back, his head bowed as he looked away and towards the chamber door. "It is decided. Alistair will rule and I will conscript Loghain into the Grey Wardens," Cirrenes announced, a cacophony of shouts and outrage permeating the otherwise thick and quiet air of the Landsmeet chamber.
Freezing rain pelted into the chamber as the scene continued and shifted, the Commander facing Alistair's turned silhouette. "I...I don't know who you are," Cirrenes could hear Alistair's broken voice over those who were asking her questions, the dream finally shattering once she realized Zevran was shaking her shoulders rather violently in reality.
It was only after Zevran released her that she noticed the wetness dripping from her cheeks, a fisted hand wiping away the tears before she looked over at her companion. He did not speak for a few moments, the elf clearly wondering just what he was supposed to say in her current state.
Cirrenes did not utter a word as she stood and dressed quietly, her modesty all but forgotten as she focused more on her own thoughts rather than the physical task. The memories tinged with a dreamlike fluidity were vivid, and obviously emotional enough to drive her to tears even whilst asleep. In all her travels during the Blight, Cirrenes could not recall a singular occasion where her façade had fallen and she had allowed the tears to fall. Had Alistair such a power over her emotions, or had she merely been keeping them hidden away for too long?
Sincerely hoping for the latter, Cirrenes turned to Zevran once she buckled the last armor piece over her shoulder, her fingers dragging through her hair so she was at least somewhat presentable when they left the village. The look he met her with conveyed so many questions in a mere glance; was she able to continue? Did she need some time to herself, to collect her thoughts? Did she wish to continue alone? No apologies were needed, and Cirrenes had to stifle the urge to spew them at Zevran, instead offering him a weary and watery smile before opening the door and stepping into the corridor.
Floorboards creaked beneath their boots as they made their way back to the main floor of the inn, the windows allowing what little light was outside through its grimy glass. Metal prongs intended to hold torches were understandably empty; the innkeeper no doubt had extinguished the light after his patrons had returned home in order to stave off any unnecessary fire hazards. Cirrenes had to squint her eyes when she descended the rather rickety staircase, Zevran's lack of noise unnerving her as they continued. Such is how an assassin moves, Cirrenes remarked inwardly, the Commander turning her gaze over her shoulder just to be certain Zevran was still there.
"Leavin' so soon?" the innkeeper's voice sounded across the room, Cirrenes turning on her heel and heading for the counter the balding man stood behind.
"I'm afraid so. You said the room was worth ten silver?" Cirrenes produced the small sack of coins from the leather pouch at her hip, the innkeeper nodding. "Here. Fifteen silvers, for the meal and for your trouble. Take care, kind ser," Cirrenes handed the currency to the innkeeper, his eyes widening at the large sum.
"Thank you, Ser!" the man looked positively gleeful as he disappeared into what Cirrenes assumed was the kitchen, the smell of the fire proving her assumption true.
"Let's go," Cirrenes then murmured quietly enough for Zevran to hear, the elf's nod barely discernible before they headed out the door and to Highever.
The sun peeked over the horizon, mist hovering over the ground as Cirrenes and Zevran took their first few steps into the still-slumbering village. Birds chirped in the background, water sloshing as sluggish women poured it into buckets to be used for cooking and cleaning later in the day. They hardly noticed the couple pass, Cirrenes inclining her head once in their direction though not receiving a reply, tacit or otherwise.
"We should arrive in Highever around midday," Cirrenes informed Zevran once they passed the outskirts of the village, Zevran finally giving Cirrenes what she had officially dubbed as the look. "What?" she then asked, her tone curious as dread filled her gut.
"My dear Grey Warden," Zevran began, his tone remarkably soft and not lascivious in the slightest. "I do not claim to know much of your strained...relationship with Alistair, but are you certain we should not have gone to Denerim-"
"No," Cirrenes abruptly interrupted Zevran's question, her lips pulled into a thin, taut line. She knew Zevran was worried for her, even if his countenance did not betray it. It was sweet, thoughtful even, two traits she had not thought Zevran to possess in great supply, but there they were nonetheless. "I...I will go to Denerim, but I informed Fergus we would arrive within the week," she continued with a mumble, Zevran hardly appeased but willing to drop the topic of conversation if only for the moment.
"Of course," he replied easily, the elf shifting his weight before falling in stride with Cirrenes once again. He could wait, and it seemed the Commander had other things to entertain her mind meanwhile.
The path had become increasingly rocky as they advanced, the scent of the salt from the sea slowly permeating the air. A blissful expression crossed Cirrenes' features briefly, the feeling of returning home an altogether happy one, if only from seeing Fergus once again. The castle at Highever still retained its unpleasant memories, however, vivid flashes of steel and blood replaying in her mind after the initial happiness dissipated before she turned her attention elsewhere
After Alistair had been crowned King, Cirrenes had returned to Highever with Fergus to properly bury the remains of their parents, though of course they could not rightly identify the decaying corpses. Instead of the formal ceremony to burn the bodies and scatter the ashes, Fergus and Cirrenes had instead decided to place small, stone markers in memory of Bryce and Eleanor, Oren and Oriana also earning a similar plaque not far away from that of the Teryn and Teryna.
The courtyard of the castle was hardly decorated, only a few sparse trees and rubble serving to alleviate the monotony. Two armed guards were stationed appropriately at the castle gates, the men instantly standing at attention once they noticed just who had approached. "My Lady!" one man crossed his arms in an x-shape over his chest as a greeting, Cirrenes returning the hello with a similar gesture.
"Is my brother about?" Cirrenes then queried aloud, a dog's barking interrupting the guard's reply.
"He is meeting with a messenger from the King, if I am not mistaken, My Lady," the guard informed her, a few rivulets of sweat beading at the guard's forehead nervously. Cirrenes' lips broke into a grin once she saw her loyal hound running towards her, Zevran chuckling at her side as he recognized the dog. "He's been harassing the new Cook, My Lady. No doubt she'll be glad to be rid of him," the guard continued, Cirrenes bending to one knee and petting the mabari, her smile practically blinding the guard once she looked up at him.
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of leaving him here any longer," Cirrenes promised.
"Ah, you'd so quickly leave me here to my own loneliness, Sister. I am hurt, indeed," Fergus had appeared at long last, his arms crossed over his chest predictably.
"Fergus," Cirrenes stated, the Commander standing before throwing herself into her brother's waiting arms. "I've missed you terribly," she murmured into the crook of his neck, his gauntlet rubbing her back in reassuring strokes.
"You've been missed as well, Cirrenes. Though I suppose the Queen has better things to do than meet with us lowly folk," Fergus teased, Cirrenes' smile never wavering once. "Your companion, Cirrenes?" Fergus then looked to Zevran, the assassin's features shifting into his typical debonair stance.
"This is Zevran. You remember him from the wedding, surely?" Cirrenes reintroduced the elf, Fergus tapping his chin in mock thought. "But, let us not discuss such things on the doorstep! Let us retire to a more comfortable room; we have been walking all day, you know," Cirrenes reminded him, Fergus blinking lamely before the comment registered.
"Of course, of course. Mustn't strain your feet overmuch, after all," Fergus remarked, Cirrenes hitting her brother's shoulder with a scowl. Duke, the ever-faithful mabari, walked at his master's heels, Zevran feeling a bit out of place with the familial ties between the other three, but masking the feeling effectively.
"The guard informed us that you were entertaining a messenger from the King; is that true, Fergus?" Cirrenes voiced her curiosity, the main hall just as she remembered from her last visit. The Cousland coat of arms served as the main decoration of the hall, banners and antiquated weaponry placed sporadically along the wall to tell of the Couslands' many great deeds and loyalties.
"Yes. Your dear, sweet husband relayed your message concerning the Grey Warden recruitment; he merely wanted to be certain you had sent a message to me, so I would not be caught off guard," Fergus explained with a wave of his arm, Zevran's eyes wandering the hall analytically. "I've found a suitable recruit I think you should consider; I'm only sorry that I cannot be of more help to you," Fergus seemed genuinely remorseful, Cirrenes giving him a smile in return.
"You've already done so much to help rebuild Amaranthine, Fergus. I feel as though I am taking advantage of you," Cirrenes added with a diffident chuckle, Duke barking once at her side. "I hope you don't mind my taking Duke with me. I know how...lonely being here is," Cirrenes frowned, Fergus waving off her concern.
"I'm all right, Cirrenes. I don't need you to worry after me," Fergus informed her, his smile poorly-veiling his pain. "The King has even suggested looking for another...wife," Fergus quite visibly grimaced at the last word, Cirrenes' lips quirking at one side.
"Perhaps some companionship will do you some good, Brother. Perhaps invite one of the arls to Highever; had I not the weight of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, I would be here, rest assured," she continued genuinely, Fergus offering her a slight, sincere smile.
"I'm all right, Sister. I'm not alone here, you know: all these servants to keep me occupied," Fergus joked with a good-natured laugh. "Though, I suppose you'll be wanting to see this recruit I have in mind. He's a good man, an archer. Saved my neck a few times, though will never accept any reward," Fergus continued with a chortle. "He'll be practicing no doubt, at this time of day. I would go with you, Sister, but I have some matters that need attending to," Fergus finished, Cirrenes nodding her understanding.
"What is this man's name?" Zevran intercepted the Teryn before he could get away, Fergus blinking once before laughing at his own forgetfulness.
"Ser Lieranc," Fergus answered, finally turning on his heel and bounding out of the hall.
"I think that's the fellow over there," Zevran indicated towards the lone man practicing his archery, an arrow quickly zooming from his bow and hitting the target dead-center. "He is skilled, that much is certain," Zevran surveyed the man meticulously, Cirrenes watching with detached interest.
Her eyes flicked over his face, perspiration slowly rolling down his chiseled jawline. A hint of facial hair that had been recently shaved showed on his chin, his chestnut-brown hair cut short and out of his eyes. Retrieving another arrow from his quiver, Ser Lieranc notched it and aimed briefly before released, muscles relaxing as it split the other arrow in two.
"Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes called to the knight before he could continue his practice, his piercing gaze turning in the Commander's direction. "I am Teryn Cousland's sister, Cirrenes," she introduced herself, the man's eyes narrowed suspiciously though softening once he realized she meant him no harm.
"You are married to the King, are you not? You are the Queen of Ferelden, and the Commander of the Grey Wardens," Ser Lieranc quickly supplied, his striking blue eyes quickly glossing over Zevran, the motion and intensity of the gaze reminding Cirrenes faintly of Loghain.
"I would prefer if you call me Cirrenes, or Grey Warden if anything, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes informed the knight, a subtle lift of the man's eyebrow the only indication that he had heard her comment. "As it is, however, I am searching for recruits for the Grey Wardens, and my brother has recommended you," Cirrenes continued, Ser Lieranc visibly tensing. "You are welcome to turn down the offer, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes attempted to calm the obviously vexed man, the Commander noticing his facial expression shift minutely. His features had once been rather handsome, a jagged scar below his left eye proving his prowess in battle if nothing else. His skin was tan as only one who spent a great deal of time fighting could boast, his eyes bright and alive but also seemingly holding a great deal of grief and something else Cirrenes could not pinpoint. "I will be staying in Highever for a few days, so I urge you to think over my proposal. Have you any questions, feel free to find me in the library or study," Cirrenes then inclined her head at him, Ser Lieranc starting and staring at her oddly as she and Zevran strode away moments later.
"I think you rather broke him," Zevran commented with unrestrained chuckles, Cirrenes elbowing her companion in the stomach with a disapproving look. "He respects you, to be certain, but he thinks little of your battle skills due to your age, my dear," Zevran continued his analysis, Cirrenes nodding grimly at his deductions.
"I fear you are correct. Perhaps I shall train in the yard tomorrow and prove I am not merely a pretty face," Cirrenes added the last bit slyly, Zevran's grin remarkably lusty.
"Of that I am certain, my dear Grey Warden," Zevran blatantly flirted, Cirrenes rolling her eyes before continuing down the corridor.
"Must you make such passes at me, Zevran? What would the servants think? I can already hear the gossip amongst them," Cirrenes put a hand to her forehead, giving Zevran the illusion of an impending headache.
The night passed swiftly, more so than Cirrenes previously thought possible. The Cook clearly was no Nan, nor would she ever be, but the supper she had provided for Cirrenes and everyone else at the castle was more than adequate. Her brother had insisted she take her old room for the night, Zevran taking refuge across the hall in Fergus' old room. "I don't want to be...where they were murdered," Fergus had murmured to her out of Zevran's earshot, his eyes impossibly sorrowful.
She didn't think to refuse, though couldn't be rid of the prickling of her skin, a sign which nagged at her all night that something was amiss within the castle. She supposed she would not able to gain a regular night's rest after everything that had happened with Arl Howe in Highever Castle, and was silently glad it was no longer the home to which she returned, even if Fergus were there to welcome her.
Morning dawned earlier than Cirrenes expected, the brilliant rays of sunlight careening into her room through slits present in the stone. It was as though the stonemasons had specifically designed the room to bounce the light at just the right angle to shine in the occupant's face, Cirrenes groaning once before turning over in an effort to get away from the light if only for a few more moments.
Duke's ears could faintly detect the scurrying of servants outside Cirrenes' door, the dog visibly yawning before laying his head onto his front paws once again. His master mimicked the actions as she finally pushed herself into a sitting position, the blankets falling to her waist as she yawned quietly. The night had been surprisingly dream, and nightmare, free, and for it Cirrenes was relieved at the very least.
Her thoughts drifted to Ser Lieranc, the man still withholding his answer and irking Cirrenes immensely. Had he no desire to join the Grey Wardens, she would not push the issue and he would remain here at Highever Castle. Perhaps Zevran was correct after all; perhaps she had to prove she was skilled enough, and that it had not been sheer luck on her part in defeating the darkspawn and the Archdemon.
Deciding on her course of action, Cirrenes quickly dressed in what training clothes she could find; there was little sense in using her armor for opponents who had no intention to kill her, or so she hoped. Clad in a pair of dark trousers that fit rather snugly against her hips and a loose tunic, Cirrenes approached the training field, only a few knights and soldiers presently training so early in the morning. Sure enough, Ser Lieranc was among the few; he had discarded his bow to better practice his melee skills, techniques which, Cirrenes noticed, were not his strong suit.
"Good morning, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes approached, the knight freezing mid-swipe and gauging the approaching woman cautiously. "I thought perhaps we could spar today; it would be prudent to assess your abilities, aside from your archery, which is impeccable," Cirrenes spoke with a hesitant smile, the knight not returning the gesture.
His eyes flicked to the two blades in place on her back, the enchanted weapons practically radiating power as she unsheathed them and allowed Ser Lieranc to take his stance. Taking the first swipe with her left hand, Cirrenes easily knocked away the knight's parrying blow and thrust forward with her right hand, the sword mere centimeters away from Lieranc's abdomen.
Narrowing his eyes, Cirrenes could swear she saw something harden in the man's azure eyes before he attacked outright, Cirrenes and Lieranc falling into a veritable dance of blades and fluid attacks. The knight proved to be a formidable opponent despite his lack of experience with dual weapons, though Cirrenes had a clear advantage and pressed forward with that knowledge to unbalance the knight as often as the opportunity presented itself.
A crowd gathered not too long after the two began dueling, cheers and gasps emanating from the haphazard circle at irregular intervals. It didn't take long before Ser Lieranc was flat on his back, both blades out of his reach with the Commander's at his neck, both their chests heaving from exertion. "You have won, My Lady," Ser Lieranc acknowledged his defeat, Cirrenes extending a hand to help him to his feet after replacing her swords into their sheaths.
The crowd dispersed shortly thereafter, the spectacle now over and allowing all the watchers to return to duties previously abandoned. "'Twas a good fight, Ser Lieranc. I shall leave you to your training now," Cirrenes then bowed her head before leaving the yard, a few heads turning in her direction as she left. Her tunic was sweat-soaked, the thin fabric leaving little to the imagination of those who happened a glance in her direction.
Cirrenes found herself later that evening in the study, her fingers curling around a frayed edge before turning the page, candlelight flickering lazily in the shadows. The sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, leaving Highever Castle darkened though filled with firelight in nearly every room. Duke lay at her feet, his ears twitching lazily every time the guard outside the room would shift his stance, causing his chainmail to clink against the stone behind him.
During her childhood, Cirrenes had not had much opportunity to read the various tomes housed in the castle, and very few had survived the night Howe's men had invaded. Her training clothes had been replaced by more comfortable attire: a borrowed pair of her brother's breeches buckled closed with a worn leather belt and a plain tunic which covered her upper torso, the piece of cloth torn in odd places though leaving Cirrenes with her modesty if nothing else.
Duke lifted his head as another presence appeared in the room, the mabari at first growling before recognizing the man's scent. Alerted to the presence, Cirrenes lifted her head to view the figure in the doorway, Ser Lieranc's piercing gaze trained on the Commander's face. Closing the book with an audible snap, Cirrenes offering the knight a small smile before standing. "Ser Lieranc. Is there something you wanted?" Cirrenes turned to place the book back onto the shelf it came from, Duke standing and warily crossing the room to sniff at Ser Lieranc.
"You were serious about becoming a Grey Warden, were you not?" Ser Lieranc began a bit unsteadily, Cirrenes frowning before nodding. "I lost my family to darkspawn, My Lady. I can hardly think of a higher calling than what you offer me," Ser Lieranc continued with a bitter tone, the intensity of his eyes nearly shaking Cirrenes to the core. "I agree," he then stated shortly, Cirrenes inclining her head.
"We will depart tomorrow. Have your things packed by then," Cirrenes stated, Ser Lieranc nodding before rounding on his heel and leaving the room. Her gaze fell to the floor soon afterward, her thoughts heavy and threatening to overwhelm her. Duke lifted his head and caught Cirrenes' eyes briefly, the mabari barking once and subsequently bringing a smile to her lips. "Perhaps Zevran was right after all; perhaps I should have gone to Denerim before Highever," Cirrenes murmured before turning to the doorway, her lips twisting into a small frown.
All the time away from Denerim only augmented her desire to see Alistair, even if he didn't wish to see her. Her sad thoughts were not given time to fester, however, as a cheery Zevran approached, his lips pulled in a very large grin. "I wondered where you had gotten to, Zevran," Cirrenes smiled in return, the assassin merely chuckling under his breath. "Need I ask how many bed's you've warmed, or would the better question be how many bodies have warmed your own?" Cirrenes asked with a raised eyebrow.
"My Grey Warden, whatever do you mean? I certainly do not know how to address such a...risqué question," Zevran answered in a impish tone.
"That many, is it?" Cirrenes laughed, Zevran joining in moments later. "Well, you had best say your farewells this evening. We'll be off in the morning," Cirrenes told him, the elf nodding.
"I heard as much from the good Ser Lieranc. He passed me before I saw your loveliness approach," Zevran replied.
"Now, if you don't mind, I would rather like to sleep. It has been a long and exhausting day," Cirrenes stretched to further prove her point, Zevran giving her a questioning look but not pressing the issue.
"Fergus?" Cirrenes knocked once outside their parents' old room, her head peeking inside a few moments later.
"Is something the matter?" Fergus asked, the teryn of Highever currently sitting at a desk, a quill dipped in ink hovering in the air.
"I just thought I'd tell you that Zevran and I will be leaving Highever tomorrow. Ser Lieranc has agreed to be my Grey Warden recruit," Cirrenes gave her brother a weary smile, the Commander traipsing into the room and nearly collapsing into the chair opposite Fergus.
"You would have made a silver-tongued politician, Cirrenes. There is more you wish to tell me, no doubt," Fergus saw through her attempt, her lips pursing before she pressed onward with her news.
"I know you've been to the Keep with to help with rebuilding, Fergus, but I was never able to introduce you to my fellow Grey Wardens," Cirrenes began, Fergus setting his quill down and lifting a curious eyebrow. "There is one amongst them I feel I should inform you of; Nathaniel Howe was caught stealing into the Keep, intentions not clear, and it was left to my discretion what should be done to him. I conscripted him, and he follows me even now," Cirrenes could see the dark clouds form over her brother's head before she had even finished speaking, the name Howe enough to stir up Fergus' hatred.
"How can...you allow a Howe to be at your side, Cirrenes?" Fergus was retaining his composure, though it was beginning to break slowly.
"Nathaniel has proven useful, and has saved my life on more occasions than I can count," Cirrenes attempted a half-smile, her brother's deep frown nearly spilling over into a scowl. "Had he any intentions to harm or kill me, don't you think they would have surfaced by now? I did sleep alone in the Keep unattended and unguarded. He had every opportunity to do so," Cirrenes reminded Fergus, the teryn's shoulders stiff as he fought to control himself. "I will leave you to your missive-writing, Fergus. I only thought it best to tell you than for you to find out on your own and...do something you might regret. Please give him a chance before condemning him, Fergus. It is the least he deserves," Cirrenes quietly murmured the last sentence, Fergus' face blank as she stood and exited his chamber in favor of her own. The hard part's over now. Though, I fear I will no longer find allies in either Denerim or Highever now, Cirrenes sighed, Duke giving her an inquisitive look as his head tilted to one side. "Let's sleep, Duke. We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
Cirrenes awoke before the sun appeared in the sky, her leathers donned and her packs strapped securely to her person. Zevran and Ser Lieranc were waiting for her at the main gates of the castle as she and Duke approached, the knight clearly glad that he was no longer subjected to Zevran alone. "Let's go," Cirrenes then ushered them forward, Zevran pausing before indicating the rumpled form of the teryn. "Fergus?" Cirrenes whispered, approaching him with an unsure feeling.
"I've thought long and hard, Cirrenes. I don't like your...companion, but I will trust your judgment in this. If he does anything to you, I will personally gut him," Fergus added with a murderous glint, Cirrenes hugging her brother with a soft smile.
"Of course, Fergus. I'll return whenever I can," Cirrenes then pulled away, Fergus offering her a sad smile but waving her away.