Prologue: Politics

Previously: Dramatis Personae

 

Castle Cousland

Terynir of Highever, Ferelden

9:30 Dragon 

 

It was evening at Castle Coustland. The winds blew in warm and wet from the Waking Sea, and the fading sun bathed the coast in shades of burnished red and gold. Spring was ending; as the month of Bloomingtide slowly drew to a close, summer's warmth began creeping in.

 

Elissa Cousland adjusted her armor; it was brand new and a tight fit, but still allowed a wide range of motion. She carried two long daggers strapped to her back. The blades were castle-forged steel set into dragon bone handles wrapped in leather. Though she trained with the daggers at least four hours a day,  Elissa had little use for them out here. Out here, nothing happened.

 

Highever was quiet. Her family's castle sat atop a mountain overlooking the sea and as always, a patrol around the perimeter produced nothing. Nothing but stunning visuals of the sea, and dreams of what lay across. She'd never been to Nevarra, never been to the Free Marches. Her parents traveled though, and sometimes her older brother. They came back with stories of people and places she longed to see.

 

Elissa never got to go anywhere, however. Her parents never explicitly stated why, but she knew.

 

They don't trust me, she thought to herself, smiling ruefully. They knew she'd probably run off at the first chance.

 

"Come, Baby," she suddenly called.

 

"Baby" was a muscular Mabari warhound, with a short chestnut-colored coat. He had scars from his time with his previous human. Elissa often dreamed of taking Baby with her into battle, but instead spent her evenings pampering his coat and rubbing salves into his scars.

 

They headed home, entering the towering gates of her family's castle. The guards greeted her with respectful nods and murmurs of "my lady" as she strode to the great hall. Although Castle Cousland was a stone fortress built in the Ferelden style, Leonor had tried to "civilize" it in her native Antivan style. The great hall was filled with colorful rugs, embroidered silk banners, and portraits imported from Treviso. Visitors often remarked that visiting Castle Cousland was like visiting another world.

 

As expected, Elissa's parents and brother were talking by the hearth, sipping wine before supper.

 

Teyrna Leonor Cousland turned at the sound of her daughter's footsteps.

 

"She appears," Leonor remarked in her thick, rolling Antivan accent. She looked over her daughter and raised an eyebrow. "In full armor, no less."

 

Fergus laughed. "I can't believe you're actually wearing that thing to supper, sister."

 

"Why not?" Teyrn Bryce Cousland asked, shrugging. "She's been asking for armor since her last name day. Did you people think she was going to hang it up and just look at it?"

 

"That one," Leonor said, nodding briskly at Baby, "cannot come to supper." She gestured for a page to lead the war hound away. Baby whined and wagged his tail in protest, but obeyed.

 

"What's for supper, anyway?" Elissa asked, yawning. She preferred to eat in her room or with her guards, but her mother hated that.

 

"Pot roast," Fergus told her. "Our new chief cook is from Gwaren. Says it's very popular there."

 

Elissa shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

 

Leonor looked her daughter over again. "My dear, would you like to change before we dine?"

 

Elissa met her gaze squarely. "No, Mother," she said flatly. "I would not."

 

"The armor suits you," Bryce assured his daughter.

 

"She could at least wash her face," Leonor chided, lips pursed.

 

Elissa suddenly remembered the black warpaint she'd slathered across her eyes that morning. 

 

"The warpaint suits her as well. Now," Bryce asked, before anyone could argue, "where are Oriana and Oren?"

 

"Knowing Oriana," Fergus chuckled, "probably already seated and annoyed that we aren't."

 

Elissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her family treated every meal almost like a state dinner, even when there were no guests. All of them were dressed in fine wools and silks, and when they arrived at the dining room, so were Oriana and Oren.

 

Elissa felt out of place even more than usual. Her family was irritatingly perfect. There was her father, dark-haired, blue-eyed and handsome in a distinguished manner. And then her mother, eternally youthful with her brown skin, wide brown eyes, and long, curly dark hair without a single streak of gray.

 

Fergus was annoyingly handsome, with his mother's radiant skin and his father's pensive eyes. He shaved his hair close to the scalp, and kept his face smooth. As heir to Highever, he was the perfect combination of Bryce's regality and Leonor's refinement.

 

Oriana was a reflection of that refinement. Another Antivan, she too favored expensive silks and gold jewelry. She had milky skin, bright red hair, and dazzling blue eyes. Her eight-year-old son Oren looked exactly as his father did at that age, and was already as posh as his parents.

 

Meanwhile, Elissa looked like a barbarian from the distant mountains, sitting in her armor, with her weapons and warpaint. Physically, she resembled her mother, but other than that, the women had nothing in common.

 

"I received news from the capital this morning," Bryce announced, as dinner was served. "It appears King Cailin is southbound for Ostagar, to investigate a potential threat."

 

Fergus's brow furrowed as he held his goblet out for a servant to refill. "Doesn't he have people to do that for him?"

 

Leonor was grave. "Not if the threat is serious enough. Sometimes, a King must see for himself." 

 

"Is it not strange that Anora and Cailin have been married for four years now, but have no children?" Oriana asked, daintily cutting into her slice of pot roast. Her accent was even thicker than Leonor's.

 

Elissa blinked, confused. "How is that relevant?" she asked. She didn't dislike Oriana per se, but could never seem to connect with the woman.

 

"If the King -- Andraste forbid -- should fall in Ostagar," Oriana clarified, "Ferelden would be left without an heir."

 

Elissa shrugged. "Anora could rule. Rumor has it she already does."

 

Bryce snorted. "She has no claim to the throne itself. She is a commoner and, as Oriana has astutely noted, has borne no heirs."

 

"Basic politics, which you would understand if you cared to," Leonor noted. 

 

Elissa refused to back down. "So despite being a proven leader, Anora is good enough to stand beside the throne, but not sit on it?" she pressed. "Why do we care more about a ruler's bloodline than their actual abilities?"

 

"It's more complicated than that," Fergus stepped in. "Anora is not the problem -- her father is. Teyrn Loghain has long coveted the throne for himself, so if something were to happen to Cailin, Anora wouldn't be Queen for long."

 

"I heard this Loghain is considered a hero in Ferelden," Oriana said.

 

Bryce and Leonor exchanged looks before the Teyrn began delicately, "He is a great warrior, to be sure, but sometimes he can allow his ambition to cloud his judgment. And he's not above taking... shortcuts."

 

Leonor looked at Elissa and raised an eyebrow. "A flaw he likely passed onto his daughter."

 

Despite all the great-smelling food laid out before her, Elissa had no appetite. "And you people wonder why I'd prefer to be a soldier. Politics... are so unnecessarily complex. A just ruler with a kind heart should simply be allowed to rule. "

 

Leonor's lips teased a smirk. "And when the ruler's heart becomes tainted by power? What then?"

 

Elissa met her mother's gaze squarely. "That's when the soldier steps in. Because the heart can betray, but the sword never lies."

 

Silence ruled the table. Bryce held his fork in midair, stunned by his daughter's answer. Leonor was equal parts amused and impressed. Elissa didn't usually talk this much at dinner and it was a refreshing change.

 

"Sir," a herald interrupted. "There's a Grey Warden here to see you."

 

Bryce and Leonor exchanged looks again. The Teyrn set down his fork and rose from the table. "Fergus, with me."

 

Fergus obeyed his father without question, leaving Leonor and Oriana to look at each other in confusion.

 

Elissa, however, was far from confused. Politics might put her to sleep, but Grey Wardens? That had her undivided attention.

 

She waited a moment, and right when Leonor and Oriana began to speak again, she rose from the table and followed the men.

 

Next: Duty