A.N: Thank you all who have read, reviewed or both! There will be a time skip, obviously y'all probably don't want 5 long chapters of what happened during the three-month time skip, so I don't want to bore you.
P.S: I do not own Dragon Age, Skyrim, or the characters.
Chapter 11,
After long days filled with training and laughter, three months had passed at Highever Castle, the rhythm of life settling into a comforting routine. Each day was a tapestry woven with moments of joy, fulfillment, and a sense of purpose. Elena thrived in the warmth of her family, finding solace in shared meals and spirited sparring sessions with Fergus. Their banter echoed through the castle, the sounds of laughter filling the halls and grounding her amidst the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon.
Yet, beneath the surface of this tranquil existence, a storm was brewing. Elena kept her ear to the ground, her instincts sharp as she listened for news of the world beyond Highever's walls. Rumors swirled about a war building in the south against a fearsome enemy known as the darkspawn. Whispers spoke of relentless attacks, their grotesque forms haunting the nightmares of those who lived in fear of the encroaching darkness.
During her free time, Elena found herself drawn to the castle library, a sanctuary filled with the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound tomes. The library, with its towering shelves and cozy reading nooks, became her refuge. She immersed herself in research, pouring over texts that spoke of the darkspawn and the legendary soldiers who fought them—the Grey Wardens.
The stories of these brave warriors captivated her. They were said to be the last line of defense against the darkspawn, bound by a sacred oath to protect the realm from the encroaching darkness. Each tale of their valor ignited a fire within her, a longing to understand the nature of the threat they faced. She discovered accounts of the Grey Wardens' sacrifices, their courage in the face of insurmountable odds, and the toll it took on their lives.
Elena spent hours with her nose buried in books, taking notes on the characteristics of the darkspawn—how they emerged from the deep places of the earth, twisted and corrupted. She learned of their relentless attacks, the chaos they wrought, and the devastating effects they had on villages and towns. Her heart ached at the thought of innocent lives lost to such horrors, a stark reminder of the responsibility that rested on her shoulders. For she to had fought to protect the innocent from enemies in her own land, but the enemies she fought were more human and less monstrous than the Darkspawn.
However, she knew that it was not her place to fight in this battle. She served another King and would not trade her loyalties for the chance to fight. 'Besides, Ulfric would kill me if I got dragged into another war just by visiting family…' Well, kill or find slightly amusing, it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
One evening during the evening meal, the dining hall of Highever Castle was filled with the rich aromas of roasted meats and fresh vegetables. Laughter and chatter echoed off the stone walls, a warm reminder of the familial bond that thrived even amidst the undercurrents of uncertainty. Elena sat beside Fergus, their plates piled high as they exchanged playful jabs about who could eat more.
As the meal progressed, the jovial atmosphere shifted subtly when their father, Arl Bryce Cousland, cleared his throat, commanding the attention of everyone at the table. The light from the chandelier above cast a golden glow over his weathered features, the weight of responsibility etched in the lines of his face.
"Family," he began, his voice steady but heavy with emotion, "I have grave news to share."
A hush fell over the room as Elena's heart began to race. She exchanged a worried glance with Fergus, who leaned forward, his expression shifting from mirth to concern.
"The King has called for aid against a growing threat in the south," Bryce continued, his gaze sweeping across the table, meeting each of their eyes with unwavering resolve. "Darkspawn are rising again, and the King is rallying his armies to fight them."
A cold shiver ran down Elena's spine at the mention of the darkspawn. She had studied their history, the terror they brought, and the sacrifices made to keep them at bay. Fergus's expression hardened, and the gravity of their father's words settled heavily in the air.
"We will be leaving in one week's time," Bryce continued, his voice steady despite the weight of his announcement. "Arl Howe will be bringing his soldiers down so that our forces can march together."
At the mention of Arl Howe, a fleeting memory flickered in Elena's mind, like a shadow skimming across the surface of a still lake. She grasped at it, desperate to hold onto the wisps of recognition, but it slipped away like leaves caught in the wind—light and insubstantial. The unsettling feeling lingered, a chill creeping along her spine as she regarded the man whose name stirred such wariness within her, despite the fog of forgetfulness clouding her memory.
Shaking her head to dispel the unsettling thoughts, she pushed her plate away. The remnants of her meal lay cold and untouched, mirroring the weight in her heart. She turned her gaze to her father, who sat at the head of the long, oak table, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his weathered face. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread, yet it felt stifling, as if the impending threat outside the castle walls pressed in upon them.
"Because of my loyalties to King Ulfric, I will not be participating if I can help it," Elena stated, her voice steady but laced with resolve. "However, if you would like, I can take Mother, Orianna, and Oren to Skyrim. It would be a long journey, but should the Darkspawn make it past the army, then they would be safe." Her heart swelled with the hope of protecting the family she had only recently found again, her determination warming the cold space around her.
Before Bryce could respond, Elenore spoke up, her head shaking slowly, the soft curls of her hair catching the light. "My place is here, dear. If your father and brother are leaving to prepare, then I need to stay here to take care of the castle." Her voice was gentle yet resolute, carrying a weight that left Elena no room for persuasion. The warmth of familial love resonated in the room, but so too did the chill of impending conflict.
Elena let out a small sigh, feeling the tension tighten in her chest. "Understood. I'll stay here and help protect the castle and its people until the war is over. King Ulfric won't mind if I stay a bit longer anyways."
The walls around them seemed to echo her words, the stone imbued with the history of battles fought and lost, the echoes of warriors past whispering through the corridors. The flickering flames of the candles seemed to mirror the uncertainty flickering within her—a delicate balance between duty and loyalty, between safety and the call to arms
Bryce seemed thankful for her answer, a subtle relief washing over his features as the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The flickering candlelight reflected in his eyes, softening the hard lines etched into his face by years of leadership and battle. "Thank you, pup," he said, his voice warm with genuine gratitude. "You have no idea how much it means to me to hear that."
Elena felt a swell of pride at her father's words, a flicker of warmth igniting in the cold room. It was as if a weight had been lifted—not just from him, but from her as well. Knowing that she could contribute in a meaningful way filled her with purpose. She met his gaze, searching for any signs of doubt or concern, but all she found was steadfast belief and a glimmer of hope.
"I know you can hold your own," he continued, his voice low and steady, the gravity of the situation palpable between them. "Having an extra skilled fighter could be the difference between victory and defeat if the Darkspawn do get past the southern army." His gaze drifted momentarily, as if he could already see the dark horizon beyond the castle walls—a horizon fraught with danger and uncertainty.
Elena watched her father closely, feeling the weight of his words settle heavily in the air. She understood the stakes, the balance between safety and the threat lurking just beyond the castle gates. The castle, with its thick stone walls and towering battlements, had always felt like a sanctuary, but now it seemed to loom larger, almost suffocating, as the outside world pressed in against it.
In the silence that followed, the distant howls of the wind outside echoed in her ears, a haunting reminder of the chaos brewing in the world beyond. She could almost hear the clanging of swords and the cries of battle, images of heroism and sacrifice flickering in her mind like the shadows on the walls.
"Father," she began, her voice steady but softer now, "if it comes to it, I won't hesitate to protect our home and those we love. I'll fight for this castle and our family." The determination in her heart swelled, blending with the anxiety swirling in the pit of her stomach.
Bryce nodded, pride shining through his weariness. "I know you will, Elena. You carry the strength of our blood. Just promise me that you will stay safe."
She offered him a reassuring smile, feeling a bond forged stronger by their shared resolve. "I promise, Father. I will do everything I can."
As the days passed, the castle buzzed with a palpable sense of urgency. The flickering lights of the torches lining the stone walls illuminated a flurry of activity. Soldiers moved through the courtyards, their voices raised in determination as they honed their skills and readied their equipment. The clang of metal echoed against the cold stone, a rhythmic reminder of the battle preparations that consumed the fortress.
Elena found herself immersed in the hustle, her heart a blend of anxiety and resolve. Each day began with the crack of dawn, the sun rising over the horizon, casting golden rays over the frost-kissed battlements. She would rise early to join her mother, Elenore, in the castle's heart, where they organized supplies, tended to the needs of the household, and prepared the castle for the impending march south.
Elenore, her hands deftly sorting through provisions, moved with an elegance that belied the urgency of their task. The weight of the situation hung heavy in her eyes, but she carried herself with grace, a steadying presence amidst the chaos. "We must ensure the castle is stocked with enough supplies to last," she reminded Elena, her voice firm yet calm. "If the Darkspawn breach the south army, we need to ensure the people here are safe."
Elena nodded, the scent of fresh bread and herbs filling the air as they worked side by side. Together, they gathered grains, salted meats, and dried fruits, filling baskets that would be stored in the cool, dark cellars. "And what of the wounded?" Elena asked, knowing there was no war or battle without injured. "We should prepare a place for them, just in case."
Elenore paused, her gaze meeting Elena's with an intensity that spoke of shared understanding. "You're right, my dear. We must be ready for every possibility." The two women exchanged a look, a silent agreement forming between them—a commitment to face the uncertainties ahead with unwavering strength.
Throughout the week, the castle transformed into a hive of preparation. Soldiers practiced their formations in the courtyard, the sharp crack of arrows hitting targets and the shouts of commands filling the air. Elena took every opportunity to assist her mother, gathering herbs and tending to the small garden outside the kitchen. The vibrant greens stood in stark contrast to the gray skies above, a reminder of life continuing amid the encroaching storm.
In the evenings, they gathered in the great hall, where the flickering candles cast long shadows against the stone walls. The air was thick with anticipation, each meal shared a moment of quiet before the chaos. They would discuss their plans, the realities of battle looming large over them. Elena often found herself stealing glances at Bryce, who would share updates on the soldiers' preparations and the strategies forming in the war council.
"Father," she asked one night as they sat together, "what if the Darkspawn find a way past our defenses? What do you want us to do with the people here?" she asked, trying to figure out if there was an evacuation route that she could get the villagers through.
Bryce leaned back in his chair; his expression serious but softened by concern for his daughter. "We have trained hard, and our defenses are strong. But should the worst come, we'll ensure that the remaining guards left here are ready to defend the townspeople and get them to the water. There are boats there that can take them up to Deneriem for safe harbor." He spoke.
His words reassured her, but the weight of uncertainty remained. She focused on her role, determined to do everything within her power to protect those she loved. Each day spent alongside her mother and the castle staff, strengthening bonds and fortifying their home, became a small act of defiance against the chaos threatening to engulf them.
As the week drew to a close, the atmosphere shifted. The impending march loomed on the horizon, a dark cloud gathering strength. Elena could feel the tension in the air, the electric hum of anticipation as soldiers sharpened their weapons and finalized their preparations. The courtyard was a flurry of movement, the clang of armor a constant reminder of the battle to come.
On the eve of their departure, Elena stood on the castle walls, overlooking the vast expanse of land that stretched before her. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying the scent of earth and rain. She took a deep breath, the weight of her father's expectations and her own determination heavy on her shoulders. She would fight for her family, for her home, and for the future that seemed to hang in the balance.
Morning came far too soon, the first light filtering through the castle's narrow windows, casting soft beams that illuminated the training yard. Elena was already awake, the quiet of dawn her favorite time to focus. She moved through her simple training routine, the familiar rhythm of her sword stances grounding her as she practiced. Each swing and thrust was a dance, a blend of strength and grace, a way to keep her mind sharp and her body strong in preparation for the challenges that lay ahead.
The cold air nipped at her skin, invigorating her senses as she felt the weight of the sword in her hands—a familiar comfort. With each strike, she envisioned the battle to come, imagining herself standing strong against the tide of darkness threatening to invade her home. The sound of metal slicing through the air echoed in the courtyard, a solitary hymn of defiance against the growing chaos outside.
As she completed her last stance, a guard approached, his armor gleaming in the morning light. He halted a respectful distance away, his demeanor serious but not unkind. "M'lady, your father is requesting your presence in the main hall," he said matter-of-factly, his tone clipped but courteous.
"Thank you very much," she replied, a hint of curiosity bubbling beneath her composed exterior. "I'll head there now." With a quick, practiced motion, she sheathed her blades, the metal clinking softly as she secured them at her side.
As Elena strode through the winding stone corridors toward the main hall, the echoes of her footsteps melded with the distant sounds of soldiers preparing for their march. The atmosphere in the castle was charged with urgency; every corner vibrated with the anticipation of battle.
Passing through a narrow passageway, she rounded a corner and found herself face to face with a group of Arl Howe's soldiers. They were gathered near a large, weathered banner emblazoned with their insignia, their laughter harsh and raucous, cutting through the seriousness of the moment.
Elena's brow furrowed as she caught sight of them. She had no time for their antics. As she approached, several of the soldiers turned to look at her, their gazes appraising and presumptuous. One man, with a bristling beard and a sneer that twisted his lips, locked eyes with her, and a disingenuous grin spread across his face. "Well, well, if it isn't the little pup herself," he jeered, the mockery in his voice unmistakable.
Elena rolled her eyes, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. "You lot should focus on your training instead of playing the fool," she retorted, her tone sharp. The response hung in the air, momentarily silencing them.
Another soldier, emboldened by the first's bravado, chimed in, "Careful now, pup. Don't want to get caught in the wrong company." Their laughter echoed off the stone walls, but Elena remained unfazed, standing tall and unyielding.
"Wrong company?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "It seems to me that your company is only a distraction. Why don't you save your energy for the battlefield?" The soldiers exchanged glances, taken aback by her confidence.
With a huff of irritation, she continued past them, a sense of determination coursing through her. The last thing she needed was to waste her time on their childish antics. As she moved on, she could feel their eyes lingering, but she refused to let their presence rattle her. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
Reaching the heavy wooden doors of the main hall, she paused for a moment, steadying her breath. The laughter and jeers faded behind her, replaced by the more serious atmosphere within. Pushing open the doors, she stepped into the warmth of the main hall, the scent of parchment and the crackling flames in the hearth enveloping her.
Striding into the large room, Elena took in the sight before her. The grand hall, with its high ceilings and stone walls, was adorned with tapestries depicting the victories of her family's lineage. At the far end, she spotted her father, Bryce, standing alongside a man she had never met before.
This man exuded an air of dubious authority, his presence both commanding and unsettling. Arl Howe was a tall figure, broad-shouldered but with an oddly slim waist that gave him a snake-like appearance. His dark tunic and pants gleamed dully in the flickering torchlight, like a man trying to portray something he wasn't, but there was something oily about the way it clung to him, as if he reveled in the shadows that surrounded him.
His sharp features were framed by dark hair streaked with gray, and his face bore the marks of a life spent scheming as much as fighting. Elena couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze was always calculating, always measuring the value of those around him. His cold, gray eyes glinted with a shrewdness that made her skin crawl—an unsettling mix of intelligence and insidiousness.
As she approached, he glanced her way, and she noticed a flicker of curiosity before his expression settled into one of casual appraisal. He clearly had no idea who she was, yet there was something in his gaze that suggested he saw her as just another pawn in a larger game.
"Ah, Bryce," Howe said smoothly, turning slightly to address her father. "I trust you're preparing your family for the… uncertainties ahead?" He gestured vaguely, his tone laced with a false charm that set her teeth on edge.
"Of course, Arl Howe," Bryce replied, his voice steady and friendly, not seeing in Howe what she was seeing. "We are readying ourselves for whatever challenges come our way."
Elena felt a surge of irritation at Howe's condescending demeanor. The man's words dripped with feigned concern, but she could see through the facade. "If you're so concerned about our preparation, you should focus on your own men," she interjected, crossing her arms defiantly. "Their training could use some improvement."
Howe's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through them before he masked it with a sly smile. "And you are?" he asked, tilting his head as if truly interested, though she could sense the calculating nature behind the inquiry.
"Elena Cousland," she replied, her tone firm. "And I assure you, I know more about training and tactics than most of the soldiers under your command."
His smirk widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes as if he found her spirit entertaining. "Ah, a young general in the making. How delightful." There was a note of mockery in his voice, an implication that he doubted her abilities despite her boldness.
Elena felt a pulse of indignation at his dismissive tone. "Delightful or not, I will fight for this family and our home, no matter the odds."
"How admirable," he replied, his voice smooth but layered with condescension. "Perhaps you can prove your worth on the battlefield. We'll see if you're truly as capable as you claim."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted, the tension between them palpable. As Howe's gaze swept over her, she sensed that he was measuring her, calculating how she could be useful—or a threat. Elena understood that the stakes were high, but she refused to let his disdain or cunning dictate her actions. She was a Cousland, and she would stand her ground, even in the presence of someone who reeked of deceit.
As she took her place beside her father, the feeling of unease lingered, reminding her that she would need to keep her wits about her in the days to come. Howe may not know her now, but she was determined to make sure he wouldn't forget her—or underestimate her—when the time came to face the darkness.
A.N: I did change up the initial interaction between them. Bryce doesn't see the snake beneath the clothes but Elena does.