Forged In Fire: Chapter 2 - Colder Than The Wind that Freezes Founts

[nicolina04]

 

Title: Forged In Fire

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: none

Summary: We can't always help who we fall in love with. Elissa Cousland's choice in betrothed defied her family's comprehension but for Elissa, he was the man she would love for the rest of her life. But when the Fifth Blight comes, and her world goes to pieces around her, Elissa finds herself torn between duty and desire. Now she’s not sure - not whether she can love him - but whether she should.

 

Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don’t (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine.

Chapter 2 - Colder than the Wind that Freezes Founts

No blade cuts deeper

Than betrayal by a friend

No wound bleeds longer

Or is so slow to mend

∞ Extracted from a poem by Kordilius Myran of the Anderfels in 1:5 Divine

*¬*¬*

It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when she was woken by her bed sinking down. Her eyes slammed open. The light from the hallway was shining through the doorway, revealing the outline of a man kneeling beside her. She opened her mouth to scream. A large, heavy hand was clapped over her mouth, wafting the odour of unwashed man up her nose. A loud roar broke the silence, and a shadow crashed into her attacker. Duke and the man both went tumbling across the bed. Elissa rolled out of the bed, grabbing for her sword. Levelling her blade, she advanced around the bed. Duke was sitting on top of the armoured man, the helmet torn off and his wide-open jaw mere inches from the sweaty, pale face.

“What is going on?” She pressed the tip of her sword against the bridge of the man’s nose, trying to hide the trembling fear and shock still radiating through her body. The blade quivered slightly. “Duke, watch the door. Make sure no-one else comes in.”

With one last snarl, the hound slunk off.

She returned her attention to her captive. “I asked you a question.”

The man gave her a terrified look. “I-I was ordered, lady.”

 “To do what?”

“A-attack the castle.” He whimpered as her blade pressed a little harder, and a bead of blood trickled down his cheek.

Duke growled.

 “Who sent you?” Elissa was trembling with rage. “Who do you serve?”

He cringed. “H-Howe.”

Elissa snarled wordlessly. That bastard! “Why?”

A loud bark from behind her drew her attention. She glimpsed a flicker of colour out of the corner of her eye, and she spun, cursing. Elissa ducked an arrow that whizzed past her head, and muscle memory kicked in. Her blade struck armour with a loud clang. Three strokes later, the first of two soldiers lay dead at her feet. Without pausing to consider the first man she’d ever killed, she turned to deal with the second, only to see Duke take a last bite at him before the archer lay still.

Elissa whirled back towards the first man just in time. He’d gotten his hands on his sword, and was rushing at her. She swung her blade to deflect his blow, and then a bow twanged behind her. An arrow sprouted from his throat, and he tumbled to the floor with a bubbling gurgle. Spinning again, her sword dropped as she saw her mother’s armoured figure in the doorway, and the tension drained from her spine.

Relief was clearly visible in the older woman’s eyes. “Darling!”

“Mother!” Elissa quickly visually checked her mother for injuries. The older woman seemed unharmed.

Eleanor looked down at the bodies. “What’s going on here?”

“Howe is attacking the castle,” Elissa said grimly. She tugged on the nearest pair of under-trousers, before roughly pulling her steel plate armour off the armour horse. Swearing under her breath, she fumbled it into place. Sweaty fingers slipped on the clasps and buckles as she rushed to dress. Silently, she thanked the Maker that her mother had insisted she learn how to don her own armour without help.

Eleanor blanched. “Why would they attack us?”

“I don’t know, Mother, but if we bar the door, we can hold on till our troops—” she began before remembering. “But they aren’t here.”  With an almost audible sound, the pieces fell into place and she gasped. “That’s it! Betrayal. Howe attacks us while our troops are gone and we’re unable to defend ourselves.”

“You don’t think Howe’s men were delayed on purpose?” Eleanor snarled. “That bastard. I’ll cut his lying throat myself.”

For a moment, Elissa was taken aback. She’d never heard her gentle mother speak so about anyone, regardless of the ‘battle-maiden’ tales of her youth. Then she looked down at the dead bodies, and smiled darkly.

“Have you seen your father?” Eleanor’s forehead was deeply creased. “He never came to bed.”

Elissa’s heart froze and she fumbled her breastplate. “No, I haven’t.  Not since dinner last night.” Her fingers slipped again on the buckles, pinching her flesh and she swore under her breath.

Eleanor’s jaw clenched. “We must find him, and then flee the castle. Without our soldiers, we don’t stand a chance if we stay here.”

“I understand.”

Eleanor bent over and then straightened, a cloth bag designed to be strapped to the back of a horse in her hand. “My bag was already packed to go with Lady Landra,” she said bleakly. “There. Some basic necessities.”

Elissa held her hand out for it, and hooked it around her back. Fergus had taught her the trick of trapping the straps on the hooks meant to carry her shield when they two of them had slipped out of the castle as children. It wasn’t the most comfortable or convenient way to travel, but it worked. Not precisely the use Fergus thought his trick would have, a little voice whispered in her head.

Swallowing, she ignored the voice.

A handful of brass coins had fallen from one of the soldier’s pockets, and Eleanor bent to scoop them up. “Anything we can find will be useful.” She pressed the coins into her daughter’s hand. Feeling faintly disturbed at the idea of looting the dead, Elissa shoved the coins in her bag. Grasping her shield, she quickly moved into the hall, stepping over the dead bodies.

Opposite her room was the dark wooden door that led to Fergus’s chambers. There was no light coming from underneath it, and Elissa wondered how Oriana had managed to sleep through the racket and clash of metal on metal. The Antivan merchant’s daughter was normally a light sleeper, waking as the men-at-arms shifted in their armour outside the family chambers.  She touched the doorknob, expecting the door to be locked, as was Oriana’s habit after a lifetime of dodging Antivan assassins. To her surprise, it turned easily. Frowning, she pushed it open.

The stink of blood and guts reached her almost before her eyes registered the scene. Her stomach twisted as she stared, its contents threatening to come back up. Behind her, she heard her mother come to a dead stop.

“No!” Eleanor’s words were half way between a gasp and a scream. “My little Oren.”

Elissa could scarcely believe that the bloody, mutilated bodies on the floor had once been her pious sister-in-law and bubbly nephew. Blindly, she reached back to draw Eleanor down against her. She could feel warm tears against her skin and seeping under the collar of her armour as her mother cried. Her own eyes refused to leave the grisly sight before them, as though trying to soak up every detail so that she would never forget this moment.

Elissa blinked back her own tears. “They will pay.” A crystal vase was shattered on the floor, its water spilled out and white roses were stained with red blood.

Eleanor pushed away from her and turned to kneel facing the two bodies. “This confirms it then. He means to kill all of us.” She stood up resolutely and turned away. “Let’s go, I can’t see this.”

Elissa reached out and shut the blankly staring eyes. Her tears trailed down her cheeks and splashed down on the cold, dead skin. Elissa stood up and, guiding her mother out of the room, she shut the door behind them. Howe would die screaming in agony as she pulled out his entrails through his stomach. Or perhaps he would burn alive. She took a deep breath, and then looked at the door leading to the rest of the castle. They would have to fight their way through the castle no doubt.

“Ready?”

Eleanor nodded, her face pale.

Elissa yanked open the door and rapidly brought her shield up. As her opponent’s sword clanged against it, she saw a blur of brown as Duke lunged into the room.

Elissa found herself staring up into the steel helmet of a knight. He was stronger than she expected, his two-handed maul whipping around to crash into her. After her knees buckled at the first blow she caught on her shield, she was forced to dance and dodge, not daring to get hit again. A sharp impact in the back of her right shoulder told her that an archer was nearby, but that her armour had deflected the arrow. An angry snarl and a cut-off scream informed her that Duke was taking care of him.

By the time Elissa had managed to thrust her blade through the gap between the knight’s helmet and armour, mother and mabari had dealt with the other two soldiers and two archers. The heavy weight on the end of her sword dragged the blade down, and he slid off to crumple to the floor. Blood dripped down her sword and fell to the grey stones, quickly making a small puddle at her feet. A cry brought her attention to where Eleanor stood in the open doorway leading to Lady Landra’s room. Elissa could guess what was in there. She drew her mother away from the doorway, closing the door on the bodies of their three guests.

“Come, mother,” she murmured. “We have to keep moving.”

After a moment, the shorter woman nodded.

Once outside, they could hear the clashing and banging of swords and shields mingling with the cries and screams of dying men.  An elven servant lay against the wall, a large bloody wound in his chest showing how he died.  The smell of burning wood and charred flesh lingered in the air, and smoke obscured everything more than a couple of feet in front of her.  Her throat tightened. This was her home.

Elissa took off down the staircase at a run with Duke at her side and her mother behind her.  The sound of clashing swords grew louder. With a yell, Elissa plunged into the battle. Thirteen years of sword training kicked into gear as she parried, dodged and slashed, aiming for weaknesses in the armour where she could. Duke was biting and clawing, his vicious attacks interspersed occasionally with loud howls that inevitably surprised his enemies. She couldn’t see Eleanor, but could hear her mother’s shouts and yells over the clash of swords.  Distantly, she heard the shriek of agonized horses and knew the fire had spread to the stables where the horses were locked in for the night. Copper, the mare she’d ridden for the last four years, was in there. Her opponent’s outlined blurred as tears filled her eyes, the knife wrenching deeper into her heart with every pained scream.

Blinking away the tears, she plunged her blade through the gap between arm and chest plate, her sword sinking into soft flesh. Before he’d even hit the floor, she turned to seek out her mother, only to stumble as another arrow impacted against her shoulder. Whipping around, she saw a group of archers standing down the hallway. At the opposite end, a lone Cousland guard fought two mabaris and two soldiers.

“Mother, Duke, down there!” she shouted.

Then she spun and headed for the archers. They were easier to kill than the soldiers had been, fumbling with daggers they were clearly unused to wielding. Each fell in a matter of moments, and Elissa raced back to the other fight.

It took them nearly ten minutes to work their way through the corridors and halls, fighting and killing dozens of Howe’s archers and soldiers. The smell of death hung in the air throughout the entire castle, looming like a shadowed cloud over their heads and mingling with the acrid smoke that burned her eyes. Crackling flames licked at the walls, eating their way through priceless wall hangings and furniture.  The heat baked her face as she ran, and her fingers grew sweaty inside her gloves.

Bursting into the main hall, Elissa barely had time to scan the hall and realise her father wasn’t present before she was desperately defending herself.  The shriek of metal against metal was overlaid by the dying screams as soldiers fell around her. Something exploded at her back, and she stumbled forward, nearly impaling herself on the nearest enemy sword. Ducking aside, she caught a glimpse of a mage out of the corner of her eye, his hands flashing as he cast spells. Fear burst in her heart. A mage. Her legs trembled, and for a moment there was a remembered scream echoing through her head. Gritting her teeth she whirled back to the soldier she’d been fighting.  Five swift blows later, and her opponent’s head was rolling on the floor. Without pausing for a breath, she ran for the mage. Another bolt of magic exploded against her chest, shoving her back several steps and radiating pain through her body. Ignoring it, she charged against, smashing her shield into the lightly robed figure. Then Duke was there, biting into human flesh until the mage lay dead on the floor. Elissa stared down at him, her chest heaved with the exertion and the fear still flooding her veins. The mage’s face was slack, his mouth open halfway through a spell when he’d died. His blue eyes were staring up at the ceiling, glassy and unseeing. He looked so young, not much older than Elissa herself. A roar from Duke drew her attention back to the fight. Her head jerked up to see an axe-wielding giant bearing down upon her, and she hurriedly lifted her shield.

By the time the hall was emptied of Howe’s soldiers. Eleanor was wincing each time she moved, a deep gash in her left arm courtesy of a dagger having slipped through the pieces of her armour. Moving to her side, Elissa braced her mother, taking the bandages offered by another limping soldier and quickly wrapping the wound. Groans of pain echoed through the room, underpinned by the rhythmic thud of a battering ram against the door and the creaking of the wood. 

Ser Gilmore’s voice was suddenly above them.  “Teyrna! My lady! You’re both alive! I was certain Howe’s men had gotten through.”

“They did,” Elissa said grimly, not looking up from her mother’s arm.

“They killed Oriana…and Oren…” Eleanor’s voice shook again, “I can’t believe-are you injured?”

Elissa’s breath caught in her throat and she straightened, turning towards him. The knight was visibly favouring his left leg and bore a deep gash across his cheek, which still bled sluggishly.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, your ladyship. Thank the maker you two are unharmed.” His eyes lingered on Elissa, relief clearly visible on his face. “When I realised what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won’t keep Howe’s men out long. The passage through the kitchen…you had better use it quickly.”

“We need to find Father,” Elissa said quickly. “Was he down here before? Mother said he did not make it up to bed.”

“When I last saw the Teyrn, he’d been badly injured.” Gilmore held her gaze. “He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants’ exit.”

“Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you.” Eleanor hurried towards the back wall of the Hall.

Of course, Elissa realised. Ser Gilmore would be staying here to defend the keep for as long as possible. He, and the rest of the soldiers at the keep, would be dying here to buy them the chance to escape. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. Elissa hesitated for a moment, and then leaned up to press a gentle kiss against his cheek, hot and sweaty from his exertions.

“Thank you, Rory.” The name was strange on her lips.

His eyes softened. “Tell his lordship he is a lucky man.”

Elissa stopped and stared at him. “You…know?” Her thoughts raced.

He smiled sadly. “My lady, I was your bodyguard, and it was in your eyes every time you looked at him.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry.” She never wanted to hurt him.

“Don’t be, my lady.”

“My name is Elissa,” she said before she could change her mind.

“Elissa,” he breathed. “Maker watch over you.”

The knight bowed, and with a final glance at her, turned back towards the shuddering gates.

Elissa determinedly didn’t look at her mother as she led the way out towards the kitchens.

“That was very well done, darling,” Eleanor rested a hand on her shoulder.

Elissa glanced at her mother in surprise. “You…knew?” Eleanor had never given any hint that she’d been aware of the knight’s inappropriate infatuation with her daughter.

“About his feelings for you?” Eleanor smiled. “It was somewhat hard to miss. But he was a valued member of our forces, and you seemed to be ignoring it, so we didn’t do anything about it.” Eleanor offered her the sword in her hand.

It was the Cousland Family blade, Elissa realised instantly. She’d never seen it in use, only hanging up on the wall in the Main Hall. But it was kept in top condition, and was undoubtedly a better blade than Elissa’s own. She looked back up at her mother. “Truly?”

“I will not leave Howe get his filthy hands on it. And you are a far better swordswoman than I.”

Elissa slid her own blade back into its sheath on her back, and closed her hand around the proffered blade numbly. The Cousland blade. It was heavier than her own, but not much, and the deep blue sapphires in the hilt bit into her flesh.

They rounded the corner, nearly running straight into a pair of soldiers.

“Hey!” the archer shouted, and a clatter at the end of the corridor indicated he’d been heard. Elissa jerked her new sword free of its scabbard again, and plunged into the battle. 

By the time she opened the door to the kitchen, none of them were uninjured. A blow to her shoulder, though turned by the armour, had left a throbbing that promised to bloom to intense bruising. Another heavy strike had broken her left wrist, which she held gingerly to her chest despite the shield still strapped to it. Eleanor’s jaw was sliced, the cut shallow but messy, and her expression spoke of other pain she hadn’t admitted to. Even Duke was injured, with two deep gashes along his flank, and he favoured one paw as he followed along behind her.

Relieved to find no more soldiers inside the kitchen and infuriated to see the slaughtered bodies of two elven servants, Elissa followed her mother to the larder door.  At first glance it seemed empty, and Elissa felt the fury that had gotten her this far drain, replaced by terror as her pulse skittered and her mouth grew dry.

“There you both are.”

Bryce lay on the stone floor, one hand pressed against a large rip in his doublet and his sword abandoned beside him. A pool of red spread out below him, and for a moment she wondered why he was lying in tomato juice. Then she smelt the tang of iron and realised it was blood, weeping from deep wounds all along his body. Elissa’s blood froze in her veins. Father! This couldn’t be happening!

Eleanor gave a startled cry and raced to his side. “Maker’s blood, you’re bleeding!” She wrenched her gauntlets off and tried, ineffectually, to staunch the bleeding with her hands. “Elissa, the potions. Hurry!”

Elissa dropped to her knees to root through the bag, pulling out poultices and potions. They slipped through her gauntleted fingers, thudding back into the bag. Cursing, she fumbled the gloves off.

He shook his head. “It…is too late. The injury is too serious.”

“The potions will help.” Elissa uncapped the first and held it to his lips.

He pushed it away again. “It will…only…prolong the agony.”

“What are you saying?” Eleanor breathed, horror painting her face.

“I am dying,” he said plainly.  “Even with…the false strength of the potions, I would not…survive the standing, I think.” His free hand brushed against his wife’s cheek, leaving bloody streaks behind, and then fell to the ground as though the effort had drained him.

Eleanor’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and a choked sob escaped her. “No!”

Elissa shook her head stubbornly, despite seeing the vicious wounds and knowing that the stab wound in his stomach alone would be fatal. “That’s not true! You’ll be fine.” Despair curled around her heart.

“No.” He smiled sadly. “I won’t, pup.” He held her gaze steadily.  “Oren? Oriana?”

“Both dead,” Elissa’s voice broke.

He closed his eyes. “Ah.” A tear ran down his face. “You must…go now. Flee.”

“But…you…” Eleanor fumbled for words.

 “I dare not slow you down, my love.” Bryce lifted himself up partially, and then looked at Elissa. “Someone…must tell Fergus…he…is Teyrn now.”

Fury surged back through her veins, her stance hardening.

“And take vengeance!”

If her father must die tonight, then his death would be avenged. Both her heart and her duty agreed with each other there. She would feel the blade sink into Howe’s heart herself.

“Yes,” Bryce breathed, his normally placid face hardening into a scowl. “Vengeance!” His hand tightened convulsively on his wife’s.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and Elissa whirled, her sword already raised defensively. But it was Duncan who entered the kitchen, a pair of bloody swords in his hands. Elissa stiffened.

“Duncan,” Bryce croaked. “You survived. I thought you dead.”

“No, your grace. I am not that easy to kill.” Duncan glanced at the two women. “When I was separated from the Teyrn, I was surrounded by Howe’s men.”

Bryce coughed painfully. “You…owe me no duty. But I beg you. Take my wife and daughter to safety.” His eyes were intent, though vaguely unfocused.

Duncan knelt down beside him. “I will, your grace…but I fear I must ask for something in return.”

Elissa couldn’t conceal the flash of outrage she felt at his words. Duncan was bargaining? Now?!

“Anything,” Bryce choked out.

Duncan’s face was serious. “The darkspawn are a far greater threat than the King is ready to admit. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. I must have one.”

Elissa’s head whipped around to stare at the Grey Warden. He wanted a recruit? But they didn’t know where anyone was, and they didn’t have time to go and find someone.

Bryce’s eyes darted to her, and then he looked back at Duncan. “I…understand,” he rasped.

Slowly, comprehension dawned on her. He was talking about her. He wanted to recruit her. “What? No! I won’t agree to any such thing!”

“I want you to live, my darling girl,” Bryce said softly. “There is no other way to escape. And I know what the darkspawn can do. They must be stopped.”

“I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the King what happened… and then your daughter joins the Grey Wardens,” Duncan promised.

“As…you say,” Bryce conceded, to Elissa’s growing horror.

Duncan turned to her. “Then I offer you a place in the Grey Wardens.”

She snarled wordlessly at him, and then turned back. “Father, no! I don’t want this.” She resisted the urge to flee somewhere, anywhere.

Bryce reached towards her and she gave him her hand, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I am sorry, my darling.” His eyes were sympathetic. “I tried to give you the life you wanted, but the Maker appears to have other plans for you.”

“My engagement…” she whispered, feeling her dreams shatter around her.

“He loves you,” Eleanor said quietly. “He will accept you anyway.”

“Our family…” Bryce took a wheezing, wet breath. “….always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated. You must go. For your own sake and for Ferelden’s.”

Abandoning that line of defence, Elissa cried: “My duty is to take vengeance on Arl Howe!”

 “Howe thinks he’ll use the chaos…to advance himself.” Bryce stopped to take a breath. “Make him wrong, pup. See that justice is done by the King.” Weakened by the conversation, he sagged back against the stone. “Please, Elissa. For me.”

Unable to see him suffer any more, Elissa bowed her head. “I will, Father. For you.”

She swallowed hard.

“We must leave quickly, then,” Duncan said briskly.

Eleanor looked down at her husband. “Bryce…are you sure?”

Bryce’s smile was strained. “Our daughter will not die of Howe’s treachery. She will live…and make her mark on the world.”

The Teyrna seemed frozen for a half second, and then her face hardened with determination. “Darling, go with Duncan.”

“What? Aren’t you coming?” Elissa demanded.

“You have a better chance to escape without me.” The green eyes glimmered with tears.

“No!” Elissa blurted out, horrified.

“Eleanor,” Bryce began.

“Hush, Bryce. I’ll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won’t abandon you. You are my husband, my lord…and my love. If you must go to the Maker tonight, then we will go together.”

“No, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself,” Elissa protested, reaching to grip her mother’s arm. The Teyrna shook her off.

“My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond.”  Eleanor reached up and freed the silver locket from around her throat. She slid the delicate rose-gold signet ring off her right hand.  She pressed them into her daughter’s palm, closing the nerveless fingers around them.  “These are yours now. As is our House.”

Elissa stared down at the jewellery in her trembling hand. Neither the necklace nor the Cousland signet ring had ever left her mother’s possession for as long as she could remember. The locket she’d never actually seen the inside of, but Elissa had tried on the symbol of her mother’s rank only once, and had had to curl her fingers to keep it on. 

Movement caught her attention and she looked up to see her father fumbling with his own ring. Her hand dropped as the heavy weight thudded into her palm. It, more than anything else, was the symbol of the Couslands’ power. The thick gold bore the Cousland seal, and it too would open the Cousland Treasury, tucked away in the back of the castle.

“Give it to the Teyrn, pup,” he wheezed.

The Teyrn. Fergus. Her throat closed up. She nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m so sorry it’s come to this, my love,” Bryce choked, his hand tightening on Eleanor’s.

“We had a good life and did all we could.” She gathered her husband close. “It’s up to our children now.”

Bryce closed his eyes. And then opened them, breathing deeply. “Then, go pup. Warn your brother, and the King.”

A loud crash echoed through the castle, and Elissa knew with a sinking heart that the main gates had fallen. Ser Gilmore and the other soldiers would be fighting for their lives at this very moment. 

He coughed. “And know that we love you both.  You’ll do us proud.”

She felt Duncan’s hand close tightly about her arm, tugging her to her feet.

“We must go now,” he said urgently.

“No!” She reached towards her parents. “Mother!”

Duncan was stronger than her, however, and he pulled her away from them.

 “Goodbye, darling.” Eleanor strengthened her grip on her sword.

“I love you,” Elissa gasped out.

Her mother’s lips moved, but the door swung shut, plunging them into darkness.

“Come,” Duncan’s voice echoed off the walls. “We must keep moving.”

Feeling bitter tears course down her cheeks, Elissa slipped the necklace over her head and hooked the rings onto her fingers, and stumbled after him.
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