Family Ties: Chapter 1
Title: Family Ties: Chapter 1, Chapter 2,Chapter 3
Author:kadens
Artist: Anna (in production) with banner and mix by sagacious_rage
Beta: Amanda
Canon: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening
Ratings: PG
Warnings: Violence, adult situations
Summary: Saving Ferelden from the Blight and destroying the Mother brings no respite for the hero Reese Cousland. Vigil's Keep is in ruins and the surrounding farmlands have been laid waste by the Mother's army. Half of her wardens have died, and the other half look to her to explain their place among the Grey Wardens, when that secretive order seems as remote as the gryphons of old. And she hasn't slept in three days. Now a new threat to Ferelden announces himself by abducting the country's beloved king, her husband Alistair. She and the other wardens must rescue him and discover who is behind the growing darkspawn insurgency.
Author's/Artist's note This is the first part of a larger story involving Reese and the mysterious Feyl and his ogre. I'm already hard at work on the next chapter. Big thanks to sagacious_rage for being so patient, for the banner and the mix, and for helping me get this story posted. Thanks to Anna for many words of encouragement!
Chapter 1
After a long, bloody night, an eerie silence settled over the the granite stones and the shattered gates of Vigil's Keep. Day broke, and the last of the Mother's army was routed, the stragglers fleeing into the misty forests of the surrounding hills. The people of the Keep lowered their weapons to look around them. Voldrik's walls had held and the darkspawn horde that had broken on them littered the fortress grounds, rivulets of black blood still flowing freely over the cobblestones. It was a victory, but as the wounded were helped to their feet and the bodies of loved ones uncovered beneath the rubble, it felt like defeat.
After destroying the Mother and her Children, fear for those left behind at Vigil's Keep drove Warden Commander Reese Cousland and her companions back across the Dragonbone Wastes as quickly as they had come, still bloody and exhausted. Still too late to save their friends.
In the twilight before sunrise, late in the battle, Sigrun had led a small force of Vigil soldiers against a last, desperate surge of darkspawn at the lower gate. She'd hastily named her men honorary Legion of the Dead, then led them in a ferocious charge against the darkspawn line. His voice filled with awe, Varel described to Reese how Sigrun's blades flickered through the chaos like lightning, and the silverite helms of the Vigil soldiers reflected the crimson flames of the torches at the gate, casting a bloody hue over the terrified darkspawn. The sight drove the invaders back and bought the exhausted freeholders time to reinforce the inner defenses. No one from inside the keep had yet ventured out of the inner courtyard, and the bodies of Sigrun's party still lay in front of the lower gate. Sigrun herself was surrounded by a dozen slain hurlocks twice her size.
They found Justice crushed under the corpse of the ogre that had attacked the Seneschal. Despite the violence of his death and the decay of his body, Kristoff's face was peaceful at last, the burden of bearing Justice erased. If anyone had witnessed the departure of the spirit, they had not lived to share the tale. Reese hoped that Justice had also found peace, either in this world or in the Fade.
Velanna's body had not been found. Perhaps the earth had already reclaimed her as one of its own.
Now Reese looked down on the table in the throne room where the fallen Wardens lay and swallowed her grief. Duncan had been the last to see her cry, and she would not shame herself in front of her surviving companions. Sigrun and Justice were hers: her recruits, her Wardens, her friends. But the blame for their deaths was also hers. It was small comfort that each had a pre-arranged appointment with death, or that they would have reminded her it was better to find death than have it find you.
The last of Ferelden's Wardens stood uncharacteristically silent beside her. Tall, sturdy Anders, who could have been her twin with his blonde hair and brown eyes, towered over her solemnly. He had lost his favorite gold earring somewhere in the Dragonbone Wastes, along with a fair bit of his mage robes and the wry smile that she could never resist returning. Wiry Nathaniel Howe, Anders' shadowy counterpart in mood as much as complexion, was covered in darkspawn blood and sported a nasty gash to his temple, his dark eyes lost on far away thoughts. The son of the man who had murdered her family, he was as trustworthy and noble as his father had been traitorous and greedy. Reese trusted him with her life. And Oghren. Where was the baudy dwarf whose antics had lightened many dreary nights in camp during the Blight? The somber Oghren next to her may as well have been a stranger.
She was bound to these men by her tainted blood and they were her family as surely as her brother Fergus. This bond must be what had driven Alistair to despair after Ostagar. Would it ever stop hurting to see people you loved die fighting for you?
Pup, don't neglect your duty because it's painful, her father had said to her once. They were standing outside the door of a small house, the home of a young man in her father's service. There was a tidy garden and a cobblestone walk with a child's rocking horse. The soldier had been killed by brigands on a routine patrol, and her father had come to tell the family. He always brought the news personally, only this time he brought her along. She was thirteen, and she had been afraid to confront the young widow's grief. She had never forgotten the sadness in her father's voice as they waited for the door to open. If we forget what heartbreak feels like, we'll forget to be human as well.
Sister Laurana said a few words for the departed Wardens and commended their souls to the Maker. Then she sighed, pinned up her long red hair and the sleeves of her robes, and returned to the wounded in her chapel with some clean cloths from the kitchen. That left the Wardens alone to mourn their own.
Oghren wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and laid Sigrun's blades across her chest. "Find your way back to the stone, girl."
Varel's left arm was in a sling, but he limped forward to Kristoff and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, my friend," he said with a catch in his voice. "Thank you for my life. It was an honor to serve you." He took a deep breath and turned to Reese. "I'll deliver his ashes to Aura in Amaranthine as soon as the Vigil is in order again."
Reese shook her head, "I should be the one to do it. I was his commanding officer."
"With all due respect Commander," Varel said gently, "Justice was your man, not Kristoff. Aura may want to remember her husband as he was. Before."
He was right, she should have thought of it herself. Aura could hardly stand the sight of Justice, but she tried, for his sake, though Reese could see how much it pained her. In Varel's words, she heard her father's wisdom. Not for the first time, the seneschal had rescued her from an embarrassing error in judgment, a skill she had come to depend on in their short time together, and though it would have assuaged her guilt somewhat to offer condolences to Aura, she could see now that her presence might be an unwelcome reminder of a time the woman would rather forget.
She nodded. "Do as you see fit. Tell her," Reese hesitated, "If you think it would bring her some comfort, tell Aura that her husband must have been a good man for Justice to find a home in him."
Silence fell again, and Reese knew the others were watching her, waiting to follow her lead. Nate would be worrying about her, as he often did, and would no doubt try to lighten her burden at his own expense. Anders would need a friend to talk to. The mage never seemed to take anything seriously, but he was more sensitive than he let on. She'd seen grief open a chink in the armor of his levity before this tragedy. But Oghren was his drinking buddy, and that would have to do for now. She was no better at confronting grief now than she had been as a child.
She supposed they all had their own way of coping. She needed to be alone, to let grief and rage have their time. So she left her friends to their thoughts and wandered out into the courtyard through the upper gates to help wherever she might be needed.
But outside, she found no reprieve from her emotions. Bodies and the remains of collapsed, smoldering buildings littered the grassy field. The three Wardens had managed to hold most of the darkspawn trapped in the wide lower courtyard where they were at the mercy of archers on the walls and Vigil soldiers on the ground. Now soldiers worked alongside freeholders seeking refuge at the fortress, picking their way through the rubble and the corpses, reverently carrying the bodies of their comrades to the small chapel where Sister Laurana and her novices cared for the wounded and watched over the dead. The darkspawn they tossed in a burning pile as far outside the main gate as they could bear to carry them.
The spirits of the dead had always haunted the secret places of the Vigil, but now the ancient, hungry souls chased the newly departed freely through the grounds. The air felt thick with dark spirits and despair.
She rubbed her eyes tiredly. Bah, enough with the demon fears. This isn't helping rebuild the keep or feed the freeholders.
Her raging emotions refused to be quieted. It was her heart arguing madly with her head.
She had let her people down. A more experienced leader would have foreseen the danger and prepared for it. Now she would pay a steep price for her lack of foresight. How would she increase recruitment with half her wardens slain within three months under her command? And even with the support promised to her by the mayor of Amaranthine, the cost of repairs would drain the already dwindling treasury allowed her by the First Warden. She'd barely begun to establish a post here, only to have her efforts set back by years.
Those were years she didn't want to lose. She longed to join Alistair in Denerim and share some kind of life together before they faced the Calling. The thought of spending the best years of her life here, wasted on cold stone walls and spiteful nobles, filled her with bitterness.
The Blight was over, and Weisshaupt was a thousand leagues away. Surely the Wardens could manage without her.
She wanted to believe that.
But could she betray the faith Duncan and her father had placed in her and leave her wardens with this mess so she could play house with Alistair? She owed them all better than that. If she abandoned the Keep, she abandoned her family.
"They don't blame you, you know." It was Varel's voice from behind her.
In the courtyard, Voldrik and his brother helped a handful of men clear boulders one at a time from the gatehouse entrance. "Well, I do," she said, looking down self-consciously at her hands, "If we'd been here…"
"Commander, if you'd been here," he replied quietly, "we'd have lost all the Ferelden Wardens, and you would have been the first to die. It took everything Justice, Sigrun and Velanna had to save us. You would not have allowed them to make that sacrifice while you lived, and the Mother would now be free to attack us unopposed. Instead, she's dead. Your people know this."
His voice was stern, a father chiding his daughter for indulging in pointless self-pity. It wasn't a tone he had used with her before.
"You are easily the youngest Warden Commander in two centuries. I've seen far more seasoned leaders fall to the politics of this country, yet you've managed to hold the respect of your allies and your enemies. Whatever the nobles may think of your command, the freeholders trust you."
She looked away, embarrassed both for her weakness and for his praise. This was undoubtedly why the Wardens kept Varel around. He always managed to offer a hand up when she needed it without threatening her authority. "Thanks. Next time, just smack me in the head. That's what my brother would have done."
If the thought of smacking her in the head amused him, Varel didn't show it. His expression never changed as he bowed slightly. "Perhaps I'll have the opportunity to see that, Commander." He handed her a piece of paper. "I received this from Teryn Cousland in Highever yesterday. I sent the hawk to the Teryn as soon as the scouts spotted the Mother's army. Although it seemed unlikely that he would arrive in time, I thought it best to be prepared."
Fergus had given her Javerin for a wedding gift. He'd trained the hawk to fly between Vigil's Keep and Castle Cousland, so that the remaining Couslands would always be in communication. Fergus said Javerin made the distance between them seem shorter.
The writing was in her brother's hand. Varel, I've gathered what men I can and we'll be on the pass from Highever before night fall. However, it will be two days until we reach the Keep. Maker watch over you all. If she returns, give my sister my love.
Tension slid away from Reese's shoulders. Somehow, knowing that Fergus was coming here eased her mind. But he was bound to run into fleeing darkspawn on the North Road and that would delay him. "At least he can get the stragglers." She watched the men toss another boulder aside. "And help clean up. These people need some rest."
Varel handed her a loaf of hard bread and a hunk of cheese. "Cook has sent out some simple fare that she salvaged from the pantry. You'll need your strength for the work ahead."
She considered the bread ruefully. "Hmmm, strength," she sighed. "If only Cook had something for sleep."
* * *
By the time survivors began to gather at the portcullis that led to the keep proper, the upper courtyard had been partially cleared and the lower courtyard was now passable, if only barely. But Reese found the full extent of damage to the Keep staggering. The eastern upper courtyard was still smoldering. Darkspawn had breached an outer wall and laid waste to the soldier's barracks and the storehouses there. Most of the outer fortress, including the curtain wall and sentry towers, was destroyed and would have to be completely rebuilt. Nothing was left of the trade buildings in the market just inside the lower gate, but the granaries had been spared, thank Andraste, or their situation would have been much more dire.
Reese climbed the steps and looked out over the small crowd. Many of the people gathering were freeholders and their families from the surrounding lands, driven to the Keep ahead of the darkspawn army. Reese was gratified to see Lord Eddelbrek there, his clothes as filthy as those of the farmers next to him. She caught Captain Garavel's eye and nodded, but searching the crowd for the silverite helms of her soldiers, she found few. Alec was there. The shepherd who'd been captured stealing grain from the keep had rallied a handful of soldiers during the battle to successfully defend the granaries without losing a man. But most were not as fortunate. By all accounts, each fallen soldier had taken a dozen darkspawn along for the journey to the Fade. In her heart, pride for their sacrifice warred with grief for the loss of so many good men and women. More than stone structures would have to be rebuilt here.
But even in the face of this destruction, it was her duty to offer what comfort could be found.
"My friends!" she called out, and the crowd quieted. "My friends, the Grey Wardens have defeated the Mother in her lair, and you have defeated her army here, and neither will ever trouble the good people of this land again. Though our enemy is vanquished, I cannot give a victory speech as we stand surrounded by the ruin of our home and the death of those we loved. But know that your sacrifice was not in vain. Because I could count on all of you to defend the Keep with your last breath, because I knew that the Vigil's walls were strong, but her people stronger, I could do what had to be done and save Amaranthine when the only other choice for her people was utter destruction."
She looked out on a field of faces that were tired and aggrieved, but not hopeless, faces of people who valued justice and courage. These were the good people who stayed to defend the Vigil. Gratitude for their faith in her eased some of the emptiness she'd felt since Highever. Unlike Alistair, she'd been raised to lead people since she was old enough to follow her father around the Cousland castle. The Ferelden people adored Alistair for his kindness, his skill in battle, and his irresistable boyish charm, just as she did. But in return, they asked him to bear the weight of their hopes and dreams, and it wore on him; he was a Theirin, doomed to be the last of the bloodline of King Calenhad, but he wasn't raised to this responsibility as she was.
You're a Cousland, pup. Draw strength from the trust of your people.
"As she has countless times before, the Vigil endures, not through the strength of stone battlements, but through the courage and conviction of those she shelters. Thank you for keeping her safe, and for believing in me as I have believed in you."
It wasn't enough, but it was as near what she felt as she could put into words. The soldiers gave a shout - "For the Commander!" - but most of the others simply nodded or held their loved ones close. She caught an approving look from Varel.
As she turned to step down into the growing throng of people that needed her attention, a cloaked figure standing still in the distance beyond the crowd caught her eye. His hood was pulled up, hiding his face, but she could just make out the glint of long, golden hair underneath. He raised a hand to the level of his chest, extended two fingers and quickly contracted them like a claw. A signal. We need to speak. Then he faded smoothly into the shadows behind a wall.
Zevran Aranai had taught her the hand signals used by the Antivan Crows when she'd first convinced him to train Alistair's personal guard. He hand-picked the King's Hounds for their loyalty and their ability, and trained them as assassins. Zev joked that giving up Crow secrets for free was penance for the many that he'd stolen for the Crows.
At court, the nobles all whispered that she was a fool to trust him. Maybe she was. He had tried to kill her. In return, she'd nearly killed him, and he'd only surrendered to her to save his own skin. Eamon reproached her often for her trust in Zevran. But Zev had risked his own life to save her a hundred times over. If she couldn't trust him, she could trust no one.
And now she trusted him with protecting the one person she couldn't live without.
That's why he's here. Alistair. His presence made the destruction around her seem less dire. But why the secrecy?
She walked into the crowd, offering encouragement to her soldiers and reassurance to the refugees as she passed. She stopped Captain Garavel for a report on the wounded, and found Varel to suggest that the unused rooms in the west wing of the keep proper could serve as temporary shelter for families that had lost their homes to the darkspawn. Mistress Woolsey protested until Reese explained about the generous donation promised by the city of Amaranthine. Her patience wearing thin and exhaustion beginning to get the better of her, she excused herself from the argument and finally made it to the throne room. Zevran stood at the far end of the hall, near the large fireplace that commanded the room, with his back to her.
"Zev, I'm glad you're here. We need all the help we can get," she said, wearily running one hand through her hair as she walked among the columns across the long hall to the hearth. "Does the king know about…"
The assassin held up a hand to stop her. It was then that Reese noticed the other hand wrapped around his torso was covered in blood and his tunic was slashed open beneath it. He swayed and would have fallen if Reese hadn't caught him.
"Maker's breath, Zevran," she scolded, "you're bleeding. Girl!" she called to a servant carrying food from the larder, a wisp of a child with short blond curls. "Mallory! Fetch Anders, quickly."
She sat Zevran down in a chair by the hearth and would have seen to his injury, but he waved her off. "I'll be fine. There are more urgent matters."
His secrecy in the courtyard, Zevran here alone and injured, the raw emotion in his face as he sat, head bowed, in the firelight. The blood froze in her veins. "Where's Alistair?"
"Warden, I…" he faltered, and avoided her eyes. "I do not know how to say this to you," his voice broke softly, "to you of all people."
"Zevran," she pleaded with him, "if it's bad, I need to know."
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I will not soften the blow then. The king was taken by darkspawn, on our way from West Hills to Vigil's Keep. Some traders fleeing the keep told us about the darkspawn attack, and Alistair was worried about you. They attacked us after nightfall in our camp on the North Road."
Reese stepped away from him. "But you found him, right?" She recoiled from the truth she saw in Zevran's face. "Oh, no."
Zevran reached out to her. "He was injured, but alive the last time I saw him. The Hounds fought like the dogs they are named for," he said, "and Alistair must have killed a dozen himself. But these darkspawn were more deadly than any we have faced before." He shook his head. "I would not have believed darkspawn could speak had I not seen it for myself. A human led them, a quick, dark-haired man. He was an assassin, I am certain."
He stopped then and gathered courage to say what came next. "When it became clear we could not escape them, I played dead and waited. Warden," he pleaded, "I would have taken a knife for the king, if I thought he could escape. I hope you know that."
Reese said nothing. She could not find her voice.
"They left with the king alive, and I heard the human command them to leave a trail. He wants us to follow him. He wants us to find Alistair."
"The Hounds, we lost them all?"
Zevran nodded despondently. "All that came with us. Some of the best. We lost Devan and Nicola. And the Vael twins."
Mallory ran breathlessly into the room. "Commander," she said in her high child's voice, "I've found Anders."
"Yes, well, when duty calls, Anders -" The mage took one look at Reese and the witty quip died on his lips. He glanced down at Zevran and, without another word, knelt and pulled the stained cloak back.
The assassin winced. "Ah, a little less enthusiasm, my friend."
Anders ignored him. He glanced sideways at Reese as he carefully removed the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around Zevran's chest. His gaze strayed to the badge of the King's Hounds on the black and gold leather armor underneath. He was cavalier and flippant at all the wrong times, but he wasn't stupid.
"The king's bodyguard." He frowned at the large, ragged gash that ran along Zevran's ribcage. "This isn't as bad as it looks. Just give me a moment."
Reese could have used several moments to recover from this shock, moments that she simply did not have. She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes to shut out the images there, images of Alistair - noble, defiant, headstrong Alistair - without his best weapon. Without her. They had very little time, she knew. Strategic complacency was not one of his talents; he tended to lead with his heart and let his mouth get him into trouble. Though this worked remarkably well with the Banns, who seemed to find his honesty a relief after the political intrigue of Loghain's short rule, she doubted his kidnappers would respond in like fashion. Reese turned her back on the now chanting mage. I need a plan. Alistair, just hang on.
"Mallory," she called, and looked around for the girl. Standing quietly at a distance, Reese would have missed her, but she jumped and sent her blonde curls bobbing when she heard her name. "You've been a great help to me today. I won't soon forget that. Find Seneschal Varel and bring him here. Tell him I sent you and it's urgent." Varel would have to manage without her, again, but he would understand. "Then, get some poultices from Sister Laurana and…no, wait, I'll take care of that. Find Cook and tell her to pack three-days march for two." The girl nodded breathlessly and sped off as fast as her small legs would carry her.
Reese watched her disappear, then turned back to speak to Zevran.
But it was Anders' suspicious glare that she met first. He stood with his arms crossed and his legs wide, as though he could physically bar her from a bad decision. "What are you doing."
"I have to go."
"Go?" He scoffed. "You haven't slept in two days."
"Darkspawn have the king. I'm Commander of the Grey, and it's my duty to rescue him."
"Really? That's why you personally are going?" he said. "Look, I know you're the Hero of Ferelden and all, but this is not another chance for glory. It's a trap." He pointed at her. "Walking into the trap, that's suicide. Look at this place, it's utter chaos. How are these people going to eat? Where will they sleep? Who's going to protect them? They need you here."
His words stung. They were an echo of Wynne's warning on the road to Orzammar. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else. Their love should have been the price of slaying the archdemon, but she'd swindled death out of that. Now fate had caught up with them. It was here to collect a debt owed, and Alistair was the balance due. But she wasn't paying up without a fight, not when the cost was so high. With all that they'd already risked, going after him half dead herself was a pittance in comparison. Anders would never understand that. He valued nothing more than his own skin.
He mistook her hesitation and seized on it. "Get word to Amaranthine," he continued soothingly, "and call up some of the soldiers there to help you. You could send a whole company, and they'd surely be more effective than four exhausted Wardens."
"I didn't ask you to go," she said quietly. "I couldn't ask any of you to come with me, under the circumstances. Zev and I will handle it."
The mage stared at her in disbelief. "You're joking, right? Because this is insane."
They were all frayed, on edge, but she didn't have time for this argument. "Anders, he's my husband. I'm going, and I'll order you to stand down if I have to."
"Don't give me that," the mage complained. "Would he want you to throw your life away like this?"
"Some people are worth risking your life for," she replied hotly. "If you ever allowed anyone besides your cat to get close to you, you'd know that. Cautious restraint is not an option for me here. Did you want us to risk our lives to destroy your phylactery? We did it because you're family, and we care what happens to you."
For a moment, he looked as though she had slapped him. Then he recovered and glared at her, working his jaw angrily for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right," he said through clenched teeth, "but I can't let the two of you go alone. Nate would skewer me alive if I did." He stalked off, mage robes swishing behind him like the tail of an angry cat. "Just wait…let me…I can't believe this…Nate!…Bloody conjugal foolishness…get us all killed…"
Zevran watched this dramatic exit with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, I would question your choice of company, Warden, had you not proven your excellent taste in the past." He stretched and twisted in his chair. "He does do good work though."
Reese, lost in thought, hardly noticed his commentary. She stood in front of the hearth, and the flickering firelight behind her cast a long shadow across Zevran, who was watching her with interest.
"I know that look as well. You have a plan."
She shook her head. "Well, I don't know that I'd glorify it with the title plan, but it will have to do." She eyed him cautiously. "And you are not going to like it. I need you to stay out of the fighting this time." He started to protest, but she forestalled him. "Don't argue. Maker, Zev, I've had enough of that today. Just listen. If we're walking into a trap, we'll need to lay a counter-trap of our own…"
Chapter 2 and 3 to follow.
Author:kadens
Artist: Anna (in production) with banner and mix by sagacious_rage
Beta: Amanda
Canon: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening
Ratings: PG
Warnings: Violence, adult situations
Summary: Saving Ferelden from the Blight and destroying the Mother brings no respite for the hero Reese Cousland. Vigil's Keep is in ruins and the surrounding farmlands have been laid waste by the Mother's army. Half of her wardens have died, and the other half look to her to explain their place among the Grey Wardens, when that secretive order seems as remote as the gryphons of old. And she hasn't slept in three days. Now a new threat to Ferelden announces himself by abducting the country's beloved king, her husband Alistair. She and the other wardens must rescue him and discover who is behind the growing darkspawn insurgency.
Author's/Artist's note This is the first part of a larger story involving Reese and the mysterious Feyl and his ogre. I'm already hard at work on the next chapter. Big thanks to sagacious_rage for being so patient, for the banner and the mix, and for helping me get this story posted. Thanks to Anna for many words of encouragement!
Chapter 1
After a long, bloody night, an eerie silence settled over the the granite stones and the shattered gates of Vigil's Keep. Day broke, and the last of the Mother's army was routed, the stragglers fleeing into the misty forests of the surrounding hills. The people of the Keep lowered their weapons to look around them. Voldrik's walls had held and the darkspawn horde that had broken on them littered the fortress grounds, rivulets of black blood still flowing freely over the cobblestones. It was a victory, but as the wounded were helped to their feet and the bodies of loved ones uncovered beneath the rubble, it felt like defeat.
After destroying the Mother and her Children, fear for those left behind at Vigil's Keep drove Warden Commander Reese Cousland and her companions back across the Dragonbone Wastes as quickly as they had come, still bloody and exhausted. Still too late to save their friends.
In the twilight before sunrise, late in the battle, Sigrun had led a small force of Vigil soldiers against a last, desperate surge of darkspawn at the lower gate. She'd hastily named her men honorary Legion of the Dead, then led them in a ferocious charge against the darkspawn line. His voice filled with awe, Varel described to Reese how Sigrun's blades flickered through the chaos like lightning, and the silverite helms of the Vigil soldiers reflected the crimson flames of the torches at the gate, casting a bloody hue over the terrified darkspawn. The sight drove the invaders back and bought the exhausted freeholders time to reinforce the inner defenses. No one from inside the keep had yet ventured out of the inner courtyard, and the bodies of Sigrun's party still lay in front of the lower gate. Sigrun herself was surrounded by a dozen slain hurlocks twice her size.
They found Justice crushed under the corpse of the ogre that had attacked the Seneschal. Despite the violence of his death and the decay of his body, Kristoff's face was peaceful at last, the burden of bearing Justice erased. If anyone had witnessed the departure of the spirit, they had not lived to share the tale. Reese hoped that Justice had also found peace, either in this world or in the Fade.
Velanna's body had not been found. Perhaps the earth had already reclaimed her as one of its own.
Now Reese looked down on the table in the throne room where the fallen Wardens lay and swallowed her grief. Duncan had been the last to see her cry, and she would not shame herself in front of her surviving companions. Sigrun and Justice were hers: her recruits, her Wardens, her friends. But the blame for their deaths was also hers. It was small comfort that each had a pre-arranged appointment with death, or that they would have reminded her it was better to find death than have it find you.
The last of Ferelden's Wardens stood uncharacteristically silent beside her. Tall, sturdy Anders, who could have been her twin with his blonde hair and brown eyes, towered over her solemnly. He had lost his favorite gold earring somewhere in the Dragonbone Wastes, along with a fair bit of his mage robes and the wry smile that she could never resist returning. Wiry Nathaniel Howe, Anders' shadowy counterpart in mood as much as complexion, was covered in darkspawn blood and sported a nasty gash to his temple, his dark eyes lost on far away thoughts. The son of the man who had murdered her family, he was as trustworthy and noble as his father had been traitorous and greedy. Reese trusted him with her life. And Oghren. Where was the baudy dwarf whose antics had lightened many dreary nights in camp during the Blight? The somber Oghren next to her may as well have been a stranger.
She was bound to these men by her tainted blood and they were her family as surely as her brother Fergus. This bond must be what had driven Alistair to despair after Ostagar. Would it ever stop hurting to see people you loved die fighting for you?
Pup, don't neglect your duty because it's painful, her father had said to her once. They were standing outside the door of a small house, the home of a young man in her father's service. There was a tidy garden and a cobblestone walk with a child's rocking horse. The soldier had been killed by brigands on a routine patrol, and her father had come to tell the family. He always brought the news personally, only this time he brought her along. She was thirteen, and she had been afraid to confront the young widow's grief. She had never forgotten the sadness in her father's voice as they waited for the door to open. If we forget what heartbreak feels like, we'll forget to be human as well.
Sister Laurana said a few words for the departed Wardens and commended their souls to the Maker. Then she sighed, pinned up her long red hair and the sleeves of her robes, and returned to the wounded in her chapel with some clean cloths from the kitchen. That left the Wardens alone to mourn their own.
Oghren wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and laid Sigrun's blades across her chest. "Find your way back to the stone, girl."
Varel's left arm was in a sling, but he limped forward to Kristoff and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, my friend," he said with a catch in his voice. "Thank you for my life. It was an honor to serve you." He took a deep breath and turned to Reese. "I'll deliver his ashes to Aura in Amaranthine as soon as the Vigil is in order again."
Reese shook her head, "I should be the one to do it. I was his commanding officer."
"With all due respect Commander," Varel said gently, "Justice was your man, not Kristoff. Aura may want to remember her husband as he was. Before."
He was right, she should have thought of it herself. Aura could hardly stand the sight of Justice, but she tried, for his sake, though Reese could see how much it pained her. In Varel's words, she heard her father's wisdom. Not for the first time, the seneschal had rescued her from an embarrassing error in judgment, a skill she had come to depend on in their short time together, and though it would have assuaged her guilt somewhat to offer condolences to Aura, she could see now that her presence might be an unwelcome reminder of a time the woman would rather forget.
She nodded. "Do as you see fit. Tell her," Reese hesitated, "If you think it would bring her some comfort, tell Aura that her husband must have been a good man for Justice to find a home in him."
Silence fell again, and Reese knew the others were watching her, waiting to follow her lead. Nate would be worrying about her, as he often did, and would no doubt try to lighten her burden at his own expense. Anders would need a friend to talk to. The mage never seemed to take anything seriously, but he was more sensitive than he let on. She'd seen grief open a chink in the armor of his levity before this tragedy. But Oghren was his drinking buddy, and that would have to do for now. She was no better at confronting grief now than she had been as a child.
She supposed they all had their own way of coping. She needed to be alone, to let grief and rage have their time. So she left her friends to their thoughts and wandered out into the courtyard through the upper gates to help wherever she might be needed.
But outside, she found no reprieve from her emotions. Bodies and the remains of collapsed, smoldering buildings littered the grassy field. The three Wardens had managed to hold most of the darkspawn trapped in the wide lower courtyard where they were at the mercy of archers on the walls and Vigil soldiers on the ground. Now soldiers worked alongside freeholders seeking refuge at the fortress, picking their way through the rubble and the corpses, reverently carrying the bodies of their comrades to the small chapel where Sister Laurana and her novices cared for the wounded and watched over the dead. The darkspawn they tossed in a burning pile as far outside the main gate as they could bear to carry them.
The spirits of the dead had always haunted the secret places of the Vigil, but now the ancient, hungry souls chased the newly departed freely through the grounds. The air felt thick with dark spirits and despair.
She rubbed her eyes tiredly. Bah, enough with the demon fears. This isn't helping rebuild the keep or feed the freeholders.
Her raging emotions refused to be quieted. It was her heart arguing madly with her head.
She had let her people down. A more experienced leader would have foreseen the danger and prepared for it. Now she would pay a steep price for her lack of foresight. How would she increase recruitment with half her wardens slain within three months under her command? And even with the support promised to her by the mayor of Amaranthine, the cost of repairs would drain the already dwindling treasury allowed her by the First Warden. She'd barely begun to establish a post here, only to have her efforts set back by years.
Those were years she didn't want to lose. She longed to join Alistair in Denerim and share some kind of life together before they faced the Calling. The thought of spending the best years of her life here, wasted on cold stone walls and spiteful nobles, filled her with bitterness.
The Blight was over, and Weisshaupt was a thousand leagues away. Surely the Wardens could manage without her.
She wanted to believe that.
But could she betray the faith Duncan and her father had placed in her and leave her wardens with this mess so she could play house with Alistair? She owed them all better than that. If she abandoned the Keep, she abandoned her family.
"They don't blame you, you know." It was Varel's voice from behind her.
In the courtyard, Voldrik and his brother helped a handful of men clear boulders one at a time from the gatehouse entrance. "Well, I do," she said, looking down self-consciously at her hands, "If we'd been here…"
"Commander, if you'd been here," he replied quietly, "we'd have lost all the Ferelden Wardens, and you would have been the first to die. It took everything Justice, Sigrun and Velanna had to save us. You would not have allowed them to make that sacrifice while you lived, and the Mother would now be free to attack us unopposed. Instead, she's dead. Your people know this."
His voice was stern, a father chiding his daughter for indulging in pointless self-pity. It wasn't a tone he had used with her before.
"You are easily the youngest Warden Commander in two centuries. I've seen far more seasoned leaders fall to the politics of this country, yet you've managed to hold the respect of your allies and your enemies. Whatever the nobles may think of your command, the freeholders trust you."
She looked away, embarrassed both for her weakness and for his praise. This was undoubtedly why the Wardens kept Varel around. He always managed to offer a hand up when she needed it without threatening her authority. "Thanks. Next time, just smack me in the head. That's what my brother would have done."
If the thought of smacking her in the head amused him, Varel didn't show it. His expression never changed as he bowed slightly. "Perhaps I'll have the opportunity to see that, Commander." He handed her a piece of paper. "I received this from Teryn Cousland in Highever yesterday. I sent the hawk to the Teryn as soon as the scouts spotted the Mother's army. Although it seemed unlikely that he would arrive in time, I thought it best to be prepared."
Fergus had given her Javerin for a wedding gift. He'd trained the hawk to fly between Vigil's Keep and Castle Cousland, so that the remaining Couslands would always be in communication. Fergus said Javerin made the distance between them seem shorter.
The writing was in her brother's hand. Varel, I've gathered what men I can and we'll be on the pass from Highever before night fall. However, it will be two days until we reach the Keep. Maker watch over you all. If she returns, give my sister my love.
Tension slid away from Reese's shoulders. Somehow, knowing that Fergus was coming here eased her mind. But he was bound to run into fleeing darkspawn on the North Road and that would delay him. "At least he can get the stragglers." She watched the men toss another boulder aside. "And help clean up. These people need some rest."
Varel handed her a loaf of hard bread and a hunk of cheese. "Cook has sent out some simple fare that she salvaged from the pantry. You'll need your strength for the work ahead."
She considered the bread ruefully. "Hmmm, strength," she sighed. "If only Cook had something for sleep."
* * *
By the time survivors began to gather at the portcullis that led to the keep proper, the upper courtyard had been partially cleared and the lower courtyard was now passable, if only barely. But Reese found the full extent of damage to the Keep staggering. The eastern upper courtyard was still smoldering. Darkspawn had breached an outer wall and laid waste to the soldier's barracks and the storehouses there. Most of the outer fortress, including the curtain wall and sentry towers, was destroyed and would have to be completely rebuilt. Nothing was left of the trade buildings in the market just inside the lower gate, but the granaries had been spared, thank Andraste, or their situation would have been much more dire.
Reese climbed the steps and looked out over the small crowd. Many of the people gathering were freeholders and their families from the surrounding lands, driven to the Keep ahead of the darkspawn army. Reese was gratified to see Lord Eddelbrek there, his clothes as filthy as those of the farmers next to him. She caught Captain Garavel's eye and nodded, but searching the crowd for the silverite helms of her soldiers, she found few. Alec was there. The shepherd who'd been captured stealing grain from the keep had rallied a handful of soldiers during the battle to successfully defend the granaries without losing a man. But most were not as fortunate. By all accounts, each fallen soldier had taken a dozen darkspawn along for the journey to the Fade. In her heart, pride for their sacrifice warred with grief for the loss of so many good men and women. More than stone structures would have to be rebuilt here.
But even in the face of this destruction, it was her duty to offer what comfort could be found.
"My friends!" she called out, and the crowd quieted. "My friends, the Grey Wardens have defeated the Mother in her lair, and you have defeated her army here, and neither will ever trouble the good people of this land again. Though our enemy is vanquished, I cannot give a victory speech as we stand surrounded by the ruin of our home and the death of those we loved. But know that your sacrifice was not in vain. Because I could count on all of you to defend the Keep with your last breath, because I knew that the Vigil's walls were strong, but her people stronger, I could do what had to be done and save Amaranthine when the only other choice for her people was utter destruction."
She looked out on a field of faces that were tired and aggrieved, but not hopeless, faces of people who valued justice and courage. These were the good people who stayed to defend the Vigil. Gratitude for their faith in her eased some of the emptiness she'd felt since Highever. Unlike Alistair, she'd been raised to lead people since she was old enough to follow her father around the Cousland castle. The Ferelden people adored Alistair for his kindness, his skill in battle, and his irresistable boyish charm, just as she did. But in return, they asked him to bear the weight of their hopes and dreams, and it wore on him; he was a Theirin, doomed to be the last of the bloodline of King Calenhad, but he wasn't raised to this responsibility as she was.
You're a Cousland, pup. Draw strength from the trust of your people.
"As she has countless times before, the Vigil endures, not through the strength of stone battlements, but through the courage and conviction of those she shelters. Thank you for keeping her safe, and for believing in me as I have believed in you."
It wasn't enough, but it was as near what she felt as she could put into words. The soldiers gave a shout - "For the Commander!" - but most of the others simply nodded or held their loved ones close. She caught an approving look from Varel.
As she turned to step down into the growing throng of people that needed her attention, a cloaked figure standing still in the distance beyond the crowd caught her eye. His hood was pulled up, hiding his face, but she could just make out the glint of long, golden hair underneath. He raised a hand to the level of his chest, extended two fingers and quickly contracted them like a claw. A signal. We need to speak. Then he faded smoothly into the shadows behind a wall.
Zevran Aranai had taught her the hand signals used by the Antivan Crows when she'd first convinced him to train Alistair's personal guard. He hand-picked the King's Hounds for their loyalty and their ability, and trained them as assassins. Zev joked that giving up Crow secrets for free was penance for the many that he'd stolen for the Crows.
At court, the nobles all whispered that she was a fool to trust him. Maybe she was. He had tried to kill her. In return, she'd nearly killed him, and he'd only surrendered to her to save his own skin. Eamon reproached her often for her trust in Zevran. But Zev had risked his own life to save her a hundred times over. If she couldn't trust him, she could trust no one.
And now she trusted him with protecting the one person she couldn't live without.
That's why he's here. Alistair. His presence made the destruction around her seem less dire. But why the secrecy?
She walked into the crowd, offering encouragement to her soldiers and reassurance to the refugees as she passed. She stopped Captain Garavel for a report on the wounded, and found Varel to suggest that the unused rooms in the west wing of the keep proper could serve as temporary shelter for families that had lost their homes to the darkspawn. Mistress Woolsey protested until Reese explained about the generous donation promised by the city of Amaranthine. Her patience wearing thin and exhaustion beginning to get the better of her, she excused herself from the argument and finally made it to the throne room. Zevran stood at the far end of the hall, near the large fireplace that commanded the room, with his back to her.
"Zev, I'm glad you're here. We need all the help we can get," she said, wearily running one hand through her hair as she walked among the columns across the long hall to the hearth. "Does the king know about…"
The assassin held up a hand to stop her. It was then that Reese noticed the other hand wrapped around his torso was covered in blood and his tunic was slashed open beneath it. He swayed and would have fallen if Reese hadn't caught him.
"Maker's breath, Zevran," she scolded, "you're bleeding. Girl!" she called to a servant carrying food from the larder, a wisp of a child with short blond curls. "Mallory! Fetch Anders, quickly."
She sat Zevran down in a chair by the hearth and would have seen to his injury, but he waved her off. "I'll be fine. There are more urgent matters."
His secrecy in the courtyard, Zevran here alone and injured, the raw emotion in his face as he sat, head bowed, in the firelight. The blood froze in her veins. "Where's Alistair?"
"Warden, I…" he faltered, and avoided her eyes. "I do not know how to say this to you," his voice broke softly, "to you of all people."
"Zevran," she pleaded with him, "if it's bad, I need to know."
He swallowed hard and nodded. "I will not soften the blow then. The king was taken by darkspawn, on our way from West Hills to Vigil's Keep. Some traders fleeing the keep told us about the darkspawn attack, and Alistair was worried about you. They attacked us after nightfall in our camp on the North Road."
Reese stepped away from him. "But you found him, right?" She recoiled from the truth she saw in Zevran's face. "Oh, no."
Zevran reached out to her. "He was injured, but alive the last time I saw him. The Hounds fought like the dogs they are named for," he said, "and Alistair must have killed a dozen himself. But these darkspawn were more deadly than any we have faced before." He shook his head. "I would not have believed darkspawn could speak had I not seen it for myself. A human led them, a quick, dark-haired man. He was an assassin, I am certain."
He stopped then and gathered courage to say what came next. "When it became clear we could not escape them, I played dead and waited. Warden," he pleaded, "I would have taken a knife for the king, if I thought he could escape. I hope you know that."
Reese said nothing. She could not find her voice.
"They left with the king alive, and I heard the human command them to leave a trail. He wants us to follow him. He wants us to find Alistair."
"The Hounds, we lost them all?"
Zevran nodded despondently. "All that came with us. Some of the best. We lost Devan and Nicola. And the Vael twins."
Mallory ran breathlessly into the room. "Commander," she said in her high child's voice, "I've found Anders."
"Yes, well, when duty calls, Anders -" The mage took one look at Reese and the witty quip died on his lips. He glanced down at Zevran and, without another word, knelt and pulled the stained cloak back.
The assassin winced. "Ah, a little less enthusiasm, my friend."
Anders ignored him. He glanced sideways at Reese as he carefully removed the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around Zevran's chest. His gaze strayed to the badge of the King's Hounds on the black and gold leather armor underneath. He was cavalier and flippant at all the wrong times, but he wasn't stupid.
"The king's bodyguard." He frowned at the large, ragged gash that ran along Zevran's ribcage. "This isn't as bad as it looks. Just give me a moment."
Reese could have used several moments to recover from this shock, moments that she simply did not have. She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes to shut out the images there, images of Alistair - noble, defiant, headstrong Alistair - without his best weapon. Without her. They had very little time, she knew. Strategic complacency was not one of his talents; he tended to lead with his heart and let his mouth get him into trouble. Though this worked remarkably well with the Banns, who seemed to find his honesty a relief after the political intrigue of Loghain's short rule, she doubted his kidnappers would respond in like fashion. Reese turned her back on the now chanting mage. I need a plan. Alistair, just hang on.
"Mallory," she called, and looked around for the girl. Standing quietly at a distance, Reese would have missed her, but she jumped and sent her blonde curls bobbing when she heard her name. "You've been a great help to me today. I won't soon forget that. Find Seneschal Varel and bring him here. Tell him I sent you and it's urgent." Varel would have to manage without her, again, but he would understand. "Then, get some poultices from Sister Laurana and…no, wait, I'll take care of that. Find Cook and tell her to pack three-days march for two." The girl nodded breathlessly and sped off as fast as her small legs would carry her.
Reese watched her disappear, then turned back to speak to Zevran.
But it was Anders' suspicious glare that she met first. He stood with his arms crossed and his legs wide, as though he could physically bar her from a bad decision. "What are you doing."
"I have to go."
"Go?" He scoffed. "You haven't slept in two days."
"Darkspawn have the king. I'm Commander of the Grey, and it's my duty to rescue him."
"Really? That's why you personally are going?" he said. "Look, I know you're the Hero of Ferelden and all, but this is not another chance for glory. It's a trap." He pointed at her. "Walking into the trap, that's suicide. Look at this place, it's utter chaos. How are these people going to eat? Where will they sleep? Who's going to protect them? They need you here."
His words stung. They were an echo of Wynne's warning on the road to Orzammar. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else. Their love should have been the price of slaying the archdemon, but she'd swindled death out of that. Now fate had caught up with them. It was here to collect a debt owed, and Alistair was the balance due. But she wasn't paying up without a fight, not when the cost was so high. With all that they'd already risked, going after him half dead herself was a pittance in comparison. Anders would never understand that. He valued nothing more than his own skin.
He mistook her hesitation and seized on it. "Get word to Amaranthine," he continued soothingly, "and call up some of the soldiers there to help you. You could send a whole company, and they'd surely be more effective than four exhausted Wardens."
"I didn't ask you to go," she said quietly. "I couldn't ask any of you to come with me, under the circumstances. Zev and I will handle it."
The mage stared at her in disbelief. "You're joking, right? Because this is insane."
They were all frayed, on edge, but she didn't have time for this argument. "Anders, he's my husband. I'm going, and I'll order you to stand down if I have to."
"Don't give me that," the mage complained. "Would he want you to throw your life away like this?"
"Some people are worth risking your life for," she replied hotly. "If you ever allowed anyone besides your cat to get close to you, you'd know that. Cautious restraint is not an option for me here. Did you want us to risk our lives to destroy your phylactery? We did it because you're family, and we care what happens to you."
For a moment, he looked as though she had slapped him. Then he recovered and glared at her, working his jaw angrily for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right," he said through clenched teeth, "but I can't let the two of you go alone. Nate would skewer me alive if I did." He stalked off, mage robes swishing behind him like the tail of an angry cat. "Just wait…let me…I can't believe this…Nate!…Bloody conjugal foolishness…get us all killed…"
Zevran watched this dramatic exit with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, I would question your choice of company, Warden, had you not proven your excellent taste in the past." He stretched and twisted in his chair. "He does do good work though."
Reese, lost in thought, hardly noticed his commentary. She stood in front of the hearth, and the flickering firelight behind her cast a long shadow across Zevran, who was watching her with interest.
"I know that look as well. You have a plan."
She shook her head. "Well, I don't know that I'd glorify it with the title plan, but it will have to do." She eyed him cautiously. "And you are not going to like it. I need you to stay out of the fighting this time." He started to protest, but she forestalled him. "Don't argue. Maker, Zev, I've had enough of that today. Just listen. If we're walking into a trap, we'll need to lay a counter-trap of our own…"
Chapter 2 and 3 to follow.