The Princess Origin
"My lady? You're contemplating again," Gorim called out.
He had been searching for her armour's matching weapon set. But the dagger was nowhere to be found. Instead he had picked out a longsword and shield. Narascha eyed up her double-handed axe though as she fixed braids into her sandy blonde hair, tying them to crown the back of her head. The rest of her hair she smoothed down.
"Just thinking about the Proving last week," Narascha said.
"Still? You've been looking thoughtful ever since that Casteless was revealed during the matches." Gorim frowned.
"I've been contemplating about wherever or not I should approach Father in regards of recruiting them into our forces," Narascha finally admitted.
Gorim's jaw dropped, along with her Grandmother's ceremonial weapons. He stared blankly at her, wide eyed, before blinking at the weapons as if seeing them for the first time.
"My lady, your father would go crazy. Nevermind the Warrior caste!" Gorim protested, scrambling to pick up the weaons. "The laws-"
"Our laws are foolish and out of date," Narascha scolded as she picked up her axe, sliding it into place in the brace of her back. "You know I've not believe in them since I was a child."
Gorim snorted. "Not the longsword or shield then my Lady?"
"No thank you." Narascha smirked, stepping down from her weapon's mantle and towards her old friend. "So, what's today's agenda then?"
"Well the King expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there's no rush. The Noble family heads will no doubt spend hours boring your Father with petitions and petty grievances."
"Sounds fun," Narascha snorted.
"What sounds even more fun is the other events. Permits were auctioned off to members of the merchant caste who wish to sell wares in the Diamond Quarter and only the best got in, so you might be able to find something nice for yourself. Lord Harrowmont also opened up the Provings again for young warriors to test their mettle before tomorrow's battle. Of course, Lord Harrowmont is using it as an excuse to try and find someone who might be able to sweep you off your feet if a young nobleman wins the Proving in your honour."
"He's been trying to have me get pregnant since I turned twenty," Narascha complained. "Every dinner, every Proving, and yet he insists! I am not some prized pet to have bred. Let's go to the Proving. Perhaps Harrowmont will finally have someone who can 'sweet me off my feet'."
Gorim nodded and followed her out. "Don't worry, Princess. Anyone trying to court you would have to gain your father's approval first, and possibly your brother's."
"I don't need any of their approvals to romance whoever I want. The fact I have not met anyone I am even remotely interested in," Narascha huffed.
They turned the corner and Narascha froze when she saw a pretty red haired lady standing in the doorway of Bhelen's rooms. She was branded with the casteless mark. Narascha paused, Bhelen's 'ember rose', he had given Narascha a name. It began with 'r', but she couldn't recall it at the moment.
"I-I'm sorry, my lady," the woman stammered, shying away. "I thought you were Prince Bhelen coming down the hall... Please forgive me..."
"No need to worry," Narascha reassured. "I believe my brother will return soon. I'm sorry, Bhelen has told me about you before, his 'ember rose', but I cannot recall your name."
"I-It's Rica, my lady," Rica bowed her head.
"Well, Rica. I hope you enjoy your stay," Narascha said, before continuing on her way.
.::.
"House Vollney are such troublemakers," Narascha grumbled at they made their way down the main street. "Thanks for dealing with that loose end, Gorim."
"Of course, my Lady." He nodded. "That mess should be tied up within the hour."
"Fantastic," Narascha said.
She had to restrain a grimace at her brothers' approach. Bhelen looked exhausted as Trian glared at her.
"Atrast vala, big sister!" Bhelen greeted her cheerfully despite how fed up he looked. "How surprising it is to run into you out amongst the common folk."
"Especially since duty requires that you attend our King Father at the feast today," Trian growled, trying to loom over her. "Have you so little respect for him, Narascha, to disregard his wishes on a day set aside for you?"
Gorim spoke up, trying to defend her. "Lord Harrowmont told me we wouldn't be needed at the feast for hours at least-"
"Silence!" Trian barked. "If I want the opinion of my sibling's second I will ask for it!"
"Yes, your Highness."
Narascha scowled. "Don't speak to Gorim like that, Trian."
"I will speak to the lower Houses and castes as they should be spoken to, little sister. Now do as I say."
Narascha glanced over at Bhelen, shrugging. "Mind offering a helping hand here, Bhelen?"
"You're on your own. I've been dealing with him all afternoon." Bhelen shook his head, wincing.
Trian instantly glared at him. "What is that supposed to mean, little brother?"
"Nothing, Trian. I've been having a great time. That speech you gave to that legless boy about hard work and making something of himself was fantastic," Bhelen said dryly while Narascha groaned, shaking her head.
"Seriously?" Narascha muttered to herself.
"As heir to the throne is it my duty to impart wisdom and judgement upon those who need it." Trian nodded, apparently not picking up on their little brother's sarcasm. "Now then you! Get to the feast!"
"Wisdom huh?" Narascha mused, before sighing. "Look, I'm pretty busy trying to scare off some Lordlings who Lord Harrowmont has lured in to woo me."
"Again?" Bhelen smirked.
"If the man is of a high household then the match would be reasonable." Trian scowled. "So watch that cheek of yours, dear sister. Father will not live forever and when he's gone I'll be in charge of you. I won't tolerate your wild behaviour like he does."
"What a horrible thing to say." Narascha rolled her eyes.
Trian snarled and finally stormed past her. "Come, Bhelen!"
Bhelen threw her an apologetic look before rushing after their big brother.
"That was fun. Nothing like being talked down to by the next King," Gorim complained.
"You get used to it. I'm just surprised he didn't say anything about my usefulness as breeding stock." Narascha shrugged as she walked off. She vaguely heard Gorim mutter some kind of curse words behind her before following.
There wasn't much of interest, except the noble hunters. Narascha had nearly laughed at Gorim's face when they began to flirt with him, only to find he was of the Warrior caste. Narascha bided them a good day before she left, Gorim at her side once more, red cheeked.
It was the dagger that had been of most interest and of most risk in the market. It was beautifully crafted, but Trian had thrown the messenger who tried to deliver it to her out. She frowned thoughtfully. If she accepted it and Trian recognised it then he would be offended. No matter how much of an arse he was she didn't want to get into a full on argument. Although it might just save her in a pinch too.
"Unfortunately I will not be able to accept it," Narascha said reluctantly. "However, I suggest you present it to the Grey Wardens or the champion of the next Proving."
"Ah, thank you, my Lady," the merchant murmured, disappointed.
She ignored it and left. He would have wanted her to wear that piece in public and gossip about it after all. It would make him more gold and publicity and she couldn't risk hers and Trian's fragile balance by pushing him too far.
That would just be foolish.
.::.
"Why is her royal highness fighting?" Torph asked, fiddling with the leather cuffs on his wrists, trying to adjust the daggers hidden within them. "Not gonna watch?"
"The Princess seems to prefer joining in the bouts," Ciara said. "How do you find the armour?"
"Good, but these wrists guards are annoying," he complained.
"You just need to get used to it," Ciara chided. "Rogues needs hidden weapons in case we get disarmed. We don't have heavy armour to take damage for us and mages, well, are mages who can shoot magic out of their hands. We need to be walking armouries."
The cheer from the crowd interrupted them. Lady Aeducan easily tore through the men around her, the four warriors were no match as the Princess swung her axe, knocking them all down in nearly one blow. The Princess yelled at them to get back on their feet, telling them everything they did wrong. She even advised what they could do better.
"Ain't she meant to be a Princess?" Torph tilted his head. "Like, showered in gold? With long, flowing dresses. That kinda stuff?"
"Lady Aeducan had been fighting the darkspawn since she was fourteen from what I've found in the Memories. This Proving is to celebrate her commission as the newest Commander of Orzammar," Ciara explained.
"How was she not a Commander earlier?"
"I think she might have been considered 'too young' by her peers," Ciara said. "Now she's turned twenty-four and her father, the King, is ready to support her in claiming such a high rank."
"Ain't that still pretty young?" Torph snorted.
"Yes well, I believe when you have a giant axe welding warrior who seems to be able to take down four seasoned warriors at the same time your perspectives change," Ciara snorted, smiling.
Torph shrugged, lazily sprawling on his seat again, feet up against the railings. "Well I bet she's still a snooty Princess either way."
"I have my doubts on that."
.::.
There was a nervousness to Frandlin Ivo when Narascha handed him the prize. She quietly warned Gorim about it afterwards before they returned home.
The throne room was filled with people. Her fellow nobles greeted her eagerly. Lord Dace tried to trick her within five minutes of her arrival. He had lost a heavy investment on an expedition and trying to get that money back would put her family and House Helmi in quite a predicament. Lady Helmi tried to intervene before Narascha could approach the throne, calling her a fool but she whispered to Lady Helmi her plan who looked finally relaxed.
It was the blonde Grey Warden who caught her attention though with a wave. She was grinning brightly and Narascha couldn't help but smile as she wandered over.
"Hey, Nara!" Lawrien greeted cheerfully, she was munching on a plate of food, as hungry as most Wardens usually were.
"It's Lady Aeducan," Gorim pointed out.
Narascha laughed. Gorim had been trying to get Lawrien Amell to use Narascha's 'formal title' for days now. Her old friend was persistent, she would give him that at least.
"Greetings, Warden," Narascha said warmly.
Lawrien huffed though. "Call me 'Lawrien'! We're friends right?"
"We barely know one another," Narascha pointed out.
"You're a good person. I like you." Lawrien grinned, startling her.
"Thank you?" Narascha frowned, confused but the blonde kept up her grin. "But for all you do know is that I could be truly evil."
"You aren't completely honest about your feelings, but you don't feel so full of anger and hate like many of your fellow nobles do," Lawrien insisted firmly. "You're too good for them. You should join us. I bet you like fighting Darkspawn better than ruling over people."
Narascha laughed. It was a full on, hearty laugh that earned several started stares from her fellow nobles. She ignored them though and smirked at the cheeky woman before her. No other Grey Warden would have dared ask her to join them, not outright at least. The rest would have talked around it.
"Sadly I have my duties to attend to," Narascha admitted, earning a frown.
"Let your brothers do that. Join us."
Gorim gasped. "Don't just demand things of the Princess!"
Poor Gorim, he was going to have a heart attack soon due to the human girl.
Narascha managed to speak with Duncan too, who explained to her about the beginning Blight. It nearly made Narascha pale but she quickly composed herself. They spoke a bit more on it, but while Narascha wished she could help, her duty was to her kingdom and family.
Her father happily greeted her once she approached the throne, ending the debate between Lords Bemot and Meino. He climbed out his seat, and kisses her forehead.
"Atrast vala, my sweet daughter. How lovely you look in your grandmother's armour." Father smiled fondly, his eyes growing soft. They quickly turned to mirth as he laughed. "I hear you were declared Champion of the Provings! I suppose you were never one to sit idle while something more exciting is going on."
Harrowmont threw them a hopeful looked, making father grin.
"So Narascha, anyone take your fancy at the Provings today?" Father asked.
"None today, Father." Narascha smiled at Lord Harrowmonth's dismay. "Perhaps another time."
"Still not considering anyone of House Harrowmont? I hear Renvil is still looking for a bride." Her father hinted but she merely raised an eyebrow. "Alright, alright," he chuckled. "Are you ready then, dear daughter? To be presented to the noble houses as Orzammar's newest Commander?"
"Yes, Father." She bowed her head.
He smiled. "So dutiful. Very well, let us begin." He gestured for everyone's attention, his voice nearly booming across the hall. "Lords, ladies. Grant me moment of your time. We are here today so that I may present to you my second eldest child as the newest Commander of Orzammar! Who would pose a question to the prospective Commander? Who seeks to know the prospect better?"
"I have a question!" Lord Dace spoke up. "I seek to know the prospect better."
"Lord Dace of House Dace. Speak." Her father gestured, but she could see the look in his eyes, it was a protective look he always threw at her whenever he disliked something.
"Lords, ladies. My question concerns the plight of our wayward kin. The so called surface caste," Lord Dace began, almost smirking. "What does the Commander prospect think of the proper place for these lost souls?"
"They should be respected but no more." Narascha smiled coyly.
"Are you satisfied, Lord Dace? Do you feel you have learned something about the prospect?"
Hopefully he had. That she would not be so easily tricked.
"Yes, my King," he grumbled.
"Then if there are no other challenges," Father said. "I give you Orzammar's next Commander!"
The crowd cheered. She smiled softly, turning her attention to her father when he spoke about her mission to strike a blow against the darkness. They would be helping Duncan, the head of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and their honoured guest, to head further down into the Deep Roads.
Unfortunately for her first task, he had to go find Trian. A most joyous task.