Highever Castle – Just After Two Bells Past Midnight

Small, violent melees continued to be fought all throughout the castle and no quarter was asked or given in this fray born of treachery and deceit. Few conflicts carried the deep hatred of close friendships torn asunder. As the ever diminishing band of Cousland forces fought their way through the castle to the secret sally port, they stepped over body after body, each one a friend or a mentor or a beloved staff member. Teyrna Eleanor Cousland fought with every inch of her being to hold herself together amid the horror and impending annihilation of everything she loved and held dear. Try as she might, she couldn't free herself of the images of murdered Oren and Oriana, Lady Landra, her throat cut, and the venerable Brother Aldous, hacked down and pierced with dozens of dagger wounds. These friends and relatives posed no threat to anyone. Why, she asked herself, why? What did Arl Howe possibly have to gain from this madness?

Eleanor could see the growing fear and desperation in her daughter's eyes. The girl's entire world was disintegrating in one night. The Teyrna was glad Alice did not have to see the death and destruction of the rebellion against Orlais where, every day, Eleanor and Bryce feared capture, torture, and a short walk to the gallows. With the liberation of Ferelden, she thought the days of deceit and treachery were over, but it was the way of humankind to grasp for power and domination.

"The king cannot ignore Howe's betrayal," she told her small force. "Cailan will set things right. He is a just and fair man. And, we will find the Teyrn. We will survive this." To her, the words seemed hollow, full of hopeless fantasy, but they seemed to reassure the frightened mob.

Alice nodded, her eyes full of hate, reflecting the glow of a dozen fires that raged within the castle. Even through the small opening of the barbute helm, Eleanor could see her daughter's teeth gritted so tight she thought they might snap. She could understand the hate. Perhaps it would keep them alive through the night. If they could only find Bryce. He would know what to do.

Eleanor led them into the chapel so they could catch a breath and reorganize. The adrenaline of the melee in the throne room was just wearing off and she began to feel her age again, her breathing strained and her joints aching. She had hoped that there might be more survivors here, but those hopes were dashed when she saw the bodies of two Templars and Mother Mallol. The murder of any Templars would infuriate the Chantry, but if no one were left to tell the truth, Howe could make up any story he liked. He could even say the Couslands did it. She quickly threw a fallen tapestry over Mallol's body. The priestess had helped to birth both Fergus and Alice and Eleanor didn't want her daughter to remember the dear woman hacked to pieces.

As Cousland knights, men-at-arms, and a few of the servants moved furniture around to make a hasty defensive position, she motioned for her daughter to sit beside her and Cyrano lay down nearby, his ears still perked up. She realized that hope was fading fast and that Ser Gilmore would not be able to hold the Howe army back for long. They would have to make a break for the larder soon, but all she needed was a minute or two. Surely, the Maker could grant her that.

At her command one of the servants laid out a scabbarded longsword and shield that they had recovered from the armory. The triangular shield was made of several layers of laminated wood, covered in leather and rimmed in silverite metal and it bore the distinctive laurel wreath with upturned ends of the Cousland family. She was immensely proud of this heirloom, but the sword was something that she treasured even more. "My dear daughter, these things were meant for Fergus as the heir, but you will need them."

"But…but…."

Eleanor put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "No buts. We don't know what will happen tonight and we cannot let these treasures fall into Howe's hands. If…when you find Fergus, then give these to him. Until then, they are yours."

She saw Alice's mouth open wide as she handed the weapon to her. Alice took it and unhooked her own sword from her belt and replaced it with the Cousland blade. Eleanor nodded and her daughter drew the weapon and held it in front of her face. She could faintly see her distorted reflection in the fuller of the silver surface. The edges were sharpened to perfection by the finest swordsmiths in Highever and it had upturned quillons to guard the hands and disarm enemies. Just ahead of the guard was an unsharpened part of the blade, known as a ricasso that allowed the user to grasp the blade for leverage. Lastly, the grip was wrapped in blue leather and the pommel, polished steel in the shape of a diamond.

"It's magnificent," Alice said quietly.

For a moment, Eleanor imagined Bryce giving the weapon to their son upon their return from Ostagar. But, it was not to be. She forced a smile. "Come, we have to go now. We don't have much time before Howe traps us."

Alice trembled for a moment, the magnitude of the events seeming to sink in. "Mother…what must I do? How can I make this right?"

Eleanor rose and pulled her daughter up. "You must survive. You must master your fear and harness your talents. Others will see your strengths and come to depend on you. You must learn to lead." The fire in her eyes revealed the gravity of the situation and brought all questioning to an end. She drew out her recurved bow once again and pointed to the Cousland soldiers at the door. "There, lead them."

Alice was hesitant at first, but then strode forward. "Come," she told the troops, we must make it to the kitchens. The Teyrn will likely be waiting for us there, organizing a defense. I need a shield wall in front and archers just behind us. On my signal, we move at the double quick. Above all, stay together."

Amid all of the horror, Eleanor felt a surge of pride. Her children…her family were her life. She vividly remembered Fergus' knighthood, the young man receiving his spurs from Bryce and when Alice first unhorsed a fully grown man during a joust, her lance shattering on his breastplate in a perfect strike.

Just beyond the door now, the soldiers interlocked their shields, holding short spears out in front like the quills of a porcupine. Eleanor took her place just behind them with a small mix of bowmen and crossbowmen along with a smattering of servants with clubs, hammers, and other discarded weapons. Alice silently gave the signal to advance and they all began to jog up the cobblestone path past the throne room. Shouts, howling dogs, and the clang of steel echoed through the streets, signs that there was still resistance…and that meant hope.

As they turned the corner, they saw a group of Cousland guards, hotly pursued by twice their number of Howe men. Alice turned back. "Archers, pick your targets carefully. One volley and then we charge." She raised the Cousland sword and Eleanor raised her bow, aiming down the shaft of an arrow at the back of one Howe soldier. "Fire!"

Eleanor released her fingers from around the bowstring and the arrow leapt from her grasp as the bowstring snapped forward against the leather guard on her left arm. The shaft flew true, shattering chainmail links and sinking several inches deep through the armor. The old Teyrna still had a bite. A moment later, the line surged forward, bodies and armor jostling in the charge. Through bouncing heads and raised spears Eleanor could see some of the Howe men turn just before the opposing forces slammed together.

A fierce warcry arose from the Cousland troops as they thrust spears into the Howe men. Dogs could be heard snarling and shrieking as they were skewered. The impact of the two groups was jarring and the noise of battle nearly overwhelming. Bloody spears went forward and then back as swords and maces rose and fell in a deadly rhythm. From beneath the shield wall, Cyrano darted forward, tearing into the throat of one of the enemy. Too close for any archery, Eleanor felt helpless and could only urge the troops forward. Then, she gasped as a Howe knight, shod in full plate, crashed through the line, smashing one of their soldiers in the head with an axe. The blade made a pinging sound as it clove through the helmet and blood sprayed out of the open face of the helm.

A servant stepped between Eleanor and the knight, brandishing a kitchen cleaver, but the armored man smote him in the cheek with a spiked gauntlet and the elf collapsed in a heap. The Teyrna tried to raise her bow, but there was no time. The knight swung the pointed beak of the backside of the axe at her and all she could do was jump back and throw the bow at him. The desperate move distracted him just enough so that the axe whizzed by her chest. Hands shaking in terror, she yanked out a shortsword from a scabbard and barely knocked away another swing of the axe.

The knight advanced another step and used the momentum of his last attack to bring the weapon back up over his head. Eleanor crouched down, her eyes darting back and forth to look for any escape. She prepared to dodge away, but the knight staggered sideways, his blow going far wide. He crashed into the wall and turned, raising the visor of his bacinet to look for the new threat.

From out of the gloom, created by the smoldering fires, Alice rushed in and drove her blade into the knight's pauldron covering his shoulder. The sword crushed the metal plate, leaving a deep dent in the piece and the knight groaned. He swung his axe wildly, but Alice angled her shield and the weapon glanced off and into the stone wall, chipping rock away. The Cousland sword flashed again and bit into the chainmail covering the knight's armpit. Fragments of metal rings scattered into the air and the man fell to his knees, dropping his weapon.

This would be a savage feud without mercy - no quarter would be given.

As Eleanor watched, Alice stomped the knight in the head several times until he fell flat on his stomach. The young lady tossed her shield away and rolled the man over on his back, holding down his weapon arm with her free hand. Trickles of blood ran from his lips and he tried to raise his other arm in a weak defense. With a feral snarl, Alice drew her arm way back and then plunged the tip of the sword up through the man's nose.

Though relieved, Eleanor was horrified by what they were becoming. There was already a darkness in her daughter that she could see growing to one day consume the young lady. There was no time to dwell on that now though. The kitchens were just ahead. Still trembling from rage, Alice picked up her shield, took a few breaths and rallied the soldiers, maybe a dozen knights and men at arms all told with about the same number of servants. They rushed into the kitchens and then to the larder where Eleanor's eyes fixed on the sight that had terrified her thoughts most.

"Bryce!"

Her husband looked up from where he lay on the ground, holding his side with bloody hands. She and Alice rushed over to the gravely wounded Teyrn, whose breaths came in ragged gasps. Eleanor couldn't help but notice the pool of blood spreading on the floor and Bryce's face felt cold and clammy. A lump grew in her throat and fear threatened to overcome her. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a trick of the Fade.

"Thank the Maker you are here. You have to go," he said weakly, straining with the effort of speaking. "There are horses outside, waiting for you. I had to make sure you were safe."

Eleanor placed her hands on Bryce's cheeks and she could no longer hold back the tears. "No, we can still make it. We can find the king and Howe will dance from the gallows. We have some potions. We can make it, Bryce."

The sudden sound of fighting in the kitchen caused her to turn, but then it became quiet again. The Cousland men parted and the Grey Warden, Duncan walked in. He too, was covered in gore, but it was not his own. Beyond him, Eleanor could see a half dozen of Howe's men, slain.

"I'm sorry I could not come sooner," Duncan said calmly as if this were all a minor inconvenience. "I was…detained," he said as he knelt near the Teyrn.

Bryce reached up and grasped the Grey Warden's hand, his eyes pleading. "Promise me, Duncan…promise me that you will lead my family to safety."

Duncan nodded solemnly. "I swear this. But, I must have something in return. As tragic as this is, this pales in comparison to the threat of the Darkspawn."

Bryce seemed to know what the man desired. "Yes…yes, I understand. Keep her safe, please, I beg you."

Eleanor's eyes widened, not wanting to understand. "Bryce, what is he asking for?"

Duncan turned to face the Teyrna. "In truth, milady, it was always your daughter that I hoped to recruit."

"No…no! We can all still escape. Bryce, you can't allow this."

Bryce grasped her hands in his own. "My dear Eleanor, it's done. You must survive. You must tell everyone of what happened here. Even if I escape alive, I will not survive the journey. Hurry, there is little time left." He looked back up at Duncan. "Duncan, take them. Keep my daughter safe."

Alice pounded her fists into the stone floor. "No! We will fight to the death! I will make Howe pay before he sends us to the Fade."

Bryce shook his head. He was as pale as a sheet of parchment now. "You have to survive, Pup. You have to tell Fergus. It will be up to the two of you." He nodded to Duncan and the Warden took Alice by the arm. She tried to pull away, but Duncan's grip was firm.

Eleanor wiped away the tears from her cheek and strangely, a new sense of strength filled her body. A sense of resolution and clarity filled her mind. There were no other options in her life at this point. A grim smile formed on her lips. She pointed to the Cousland soldiers and servants. "Go with my daughter and continue the fight. You are to serve and protect her. This is my final command. Maker be with you all."

The small mob filed out behind Duncan through the hidden sally port as Alice shrieked her protests. Duncan turned back one last time and bowed to the Teyrna. If everything she had heard about the man and the Wardens' prowess were true, their daughter would be safe for the moment. That's all they would need was some time to escape…some time to find Fergus…some time to avenge the family honor. She watched Duncan's piercing eyes until he sealed the secret door and it faded into the wall, its seams vanishing. She sighed with relief.

With loving hands, Eleanor caressed Bryce's gray hair and the wrinkles along his face. "It will all be over soon, my love. We'll be together forever." Then, in her mind's eye, she saw the clock turn back and a youthful Bryce sat before her, his face beaming beneath silky black hair. This was her knight in shining armor, her champion, who brought her to live out a fairy tale life in his castle.

The Teyrn seemed to gain strength and sat up. "Help me up against the wall, love. Hand me my sword."

As she assisted him up, pounding on the larder door interrupted her thoughts. The time had come. Please Maker, just one more minute. Just one more minute with my Bryce. She placed his sword in his sticky hands and she picked up a bow that had been left behind. She knocked an arrow as an axe head splintered the wood of the door. The shaft leapt through the jagged opening and lodged into something fleshy. There was a scream. Angry shouts and more hacking at the door ensued and she fired several more arrows, thinning out the ranks of the enemy. But, mindless hate was a powerful thing and, though blood ran thick under the door, it soon shattered into shards.

With the last of his strength, Bryce staggered forward and lopped the head off of a spear, following with a thrust into the throat of the surprised Howe soldier. Eleanor launched another arrow, its bodkin tip making a nice hole in a man's breastplate as it sank into flesh. Bryce clove the arm of another man clean off, but the press of numbers was against them. Two men rushed at Eleanor while three tackled the Teyrn and pummeled him with fists.

"No!" she cried, but it was too late. The men seized her and slammed her into the floor, knocking her senseless. They rolled her over and bound her hands behind her as she thrashed about, kicking.

"Ah, how touching," a voice filled with sarcasm and venom called out.

"Howe, by the Maker, I'll see you dead," she screamed in frustration and anger. A gloved hand grasped a knot of her hair and she was yanked up to face the traitor himself. She winced, but refused to cry out. The Teyrna would not give him the satisfaction.

Howe soldiers fanned out and searched the room, but could find nothing. Inside, Eleanor smiled, but she would not give away her daughter's escape.

"Where's that lovely girl of yours, Eleanor?" Howe asked politely.

"Dead…your men killed her, you bastard."

He seemed to weigh her words carefully, stroking that annoying soul patch of his with his thumb. "We'll see. Men," he said to his troops, "Search the castle. See if that spitfire is still alive and, if so, bring her here."

There was no fear now in Eleanor's heart. She knew what had to be done. All she had to do was buy more time. Every second bought their daughter more distance from this accursed place. Some of the Howe troops rushed out of the room, but one held a dagger to Bryce's throat.

"My victory is almost complete," Howe said as he released Eleanor's hair and she dropped to the ground. He paced about for a few seconds as if thinking. He then pointed to the soldier holding Bryce. "Make him watch," he added as he put his boot in front of her face. "Kiss it. Pay homage to the new Teyrn of Highever."

It seemed as if he expected her to protest, to lash out in impotent rage, but she had put all of that behind her now. She could imagine Duncan, her daughter, and the remnants of the Cousland house speeding away in the night, living to fight another day. She looked over to Bryce and smiled. On her knees, she bent over and kissed the bloody boot.

Howe chuckled dryly and walked over to Bryce, drawing his sword. Eleanor knew what was to come. The Teyrn nodded to her and returned the smile.

"Bryce, save what dignity you have left and bare your neck willingly."

Eleanor closed her eyes when she saw the sword raised. "We'll be together soon," she whispered. She heard a swishing sound and then something falling on the floor. She bit her lip hard until she could taste blood. Boots clicked on the ground, approaching until Howe knelt beside her. She felt the tip of his poignard on her neck, just under her jaw. The last thing she saw in her mind's eye was Bryce, in his dashing satin doublet, grinning broadly with his open hand extended to her. She took his hand and then all was filled with light.