The Romance of Cousland and Howe

Anya slowly awoke to find herself in Alistair’s arms. She looked and saw a content smile on the King’s face as he breathed slowly. Anya let herself smile as well, feeling happy in her current situation. ‘But, I don’t think things can go back to the way they once were. He’s a busy king and me now the Commander of the Grey…we’d never see each other. And, he’s under pressure to produce an heir to the throne. With one Warden its almost impossible. I can’t imagine with two…’ she sighed and tried relaxing in bed.


After trying to fall asleep again to no avail, Anya slipped out of Alistair’s grasp, an easy enough task considering the man was a heavy sleeper. ‘We have to perform the Joining today. I hope everyone survives. Especially Oghren…he’s the only real friend I have from the old days.’ she thought, slipping on a simple green dress. The hem, long, drooping sleeves were lined in a goldenrod color. The dress hung off her shoulders.


Walking softly over to her dresser she pulled out the one thing that helped her remember her mother, a golden belt the held the crest of the Cousland family. Anya tied the belt around her waist, making the dress conform to her figure.


Alistair’s golden brown eyes slowly opened, the first thing he saw was his beloved Anya brushing her long, curly red locks. He loved seeing her with her hair down, the lovely tresses cascading to in between her shoulder blades.


When he first saw her with her hair down from its normal bun it shocked him. The Cousland looked completely different. He found her to be breathtakingly beautiful. What didn’t help was the fact that he accidentally saw her bathing at camp, so, the Theirin saw every curve further defined by the cool water and shimmering moonlight.


Even though his face was a furious red, he couldn’t help but see her as some sort of Goddess.


Alistair was cut from his trance by his love’s voice, “Good to see you’re awake, Alistair.” she smiled, putting her hair in a clip, making her hair now appearing to be shoulder length.


“Good morning, my love.” the ex-Templar smiled, walking over and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing her cheek softly.


Alistair frowned mentally as he felt Anya tense up under his touch. ’Does she really despise me so now? She could be faking her happiness right now. Maker knows she’s become a master at deception. Oghren might call her a silver-tongued poetess.’ the last part was a joke, Alistair attempting to cheer himself up.


Anya slipped on a pair of simple brown flats, rubbing scented oil on both sides of her neck and wrists. “You best get ready too, I am going to see if the cooks can whip something together for everyone.” she told him and walked out the door, leaving the king to his thoughts.


Alistair sighed as he slipped on the clothes Anya gave him. Just a simple tan shirt that showed off a bit of his muscular chest and brown slacks. “What is it going to take to show that woman that I still love her? My affection hasn’t waned at all. I only took the throne because she was so damn insistent about it!” Alistair was confused and now angry. He would’ve been satisfied with a quiet life somewhere in the country, maybe with a child.


He did remember what she said though, right when the Landsmeet rejected her claim to rule as his queen, he didn’t speak up for her. He could understand that she felt as if he threw her away as if she, and what they had were nothing to him. He didn’t even console her after the Meet. ’Zevran probably did…’ Alistair gritted his teeth and clenched his fists with rage.


He always knew the elven assassin had his eyes on the female Noble. The thought of them actually together made his blood boil. “Calm down, Alistair. Even if they did…Anya still loves you…” he told himself as he brushed his hair.


“She must have been sure that the Landsmeet would have accepted her. Or…maybe she was doing what was best for Ferelden.” he sighed, grabbing his shoes and putting them on.


“I’ll worry about this some other time. I just need to enjoy the time I can spend with Anya right now.” he told himself, breathing deeply, calming himself down in the process.


A knock at the door broke the King out of his thoughts. “King Theirin, it is Varel, the arlessa sent me to fetch you.” the rough toned seneschal said.


Alistair got up and walked to the door and opened it. “I take it breakfast is ready?” he asked the middle-aged man, stepping out of the room.


“Just about milord.”


“Varel…may I confide in you for a minute please?” Alistair asked, wanting to tell someone what was on his mind.


Varel looked somewhat shocked. “O-of course, your majesty.” he stuttered.


“It concerns Anya.” he took a deep breath as the two walked, Alistair hearing whispers between maids. He caught little snippets of what they were saying but paid them no mind.


“I am worried about her. She may be forgetting that she herself is human, in the emotional sense. Every expression she makes seems forced. The same smile she wore when we helped villages from darkspawn attacks. And her face is blank. Like that of the Tranquil. None of her emotions seem real anymore.” Alistair explained, feeling helpless to the one he loved most.


“If I may, my liege. She is putting on her brave face for everyone’s sake. As a Grey Warden, everyone looks to them for protection and she had to stay strong. I admire Lady Cousland for her bravery. Losing her entire family in one night, fighting her way out and having to become a Grey Warden just a bit later. Both of you dealing with being the last of a Grey Warden massacre and having to defend all of Ferelden yourselves? It would have driven most normal people insane.”


‘She must have locked all those emotions away to try and stay strong…and all I did was complain…’ Alistair kept his gaze to the stone floor the rest of the way.


When Alistair looked into the Dining Hall, he saw Anya chatting it up with her new party members; Mhairi, Anders and Oghren. ‘All she’s missing is Maneater.’ he smiled at the scene.


But, the new King felt himself grow green with envy at how close Anders was to Anya. But, he also noticed that she too was smiling, as close to a real smile that she’s had in a while. ‘Could our relationship really have been temporary?’ he thought, now becoming depressed again.


Alistair took a seat to the right of Anya, opposite where Anders was sitting. Letting his hunger take over, he scanned the table and his eyes went wide. “Look at all this cheese!” there must have been 10 different types at least.


“You finally saw that, did you?” Anya asked in a playful tone. “I have ordered something special for you. And all your soldiers are being treated nicely. You will also be provided with poultices and injury kits should anything bad happen. And to finish everything up; all your weapons and armor are being repaired and shined.” Anya told her friend, cutting the small steak on her plate.


“You’re spoiling me, love.” Alistair smiled, kissing her cheek, noticing a jealous look coming from Anders. Once again, Anya grew somewhat stiff.


“Well, only the best for-” Alistair smiled in hope of what she may say. “the King of Ferelden.” he just looked to the side, away from everyone else.


After the meal, Alistair was back in his armor and ready to leave. Varel, Anya, Anders, Mhairi and Oghren were there to see him off. “I am sorry to say that I must take my leave, darling. I trust that you can deal with the vestiges of the Blight rather soundly. You are alone for the moment…”


“What am I, chopped Nug livers?” Oghren interrupted, making the situation less tense.


“From the smell of it that’s not a bad guess.” Anders interjected, a playful smirk on his face.


Suddenly, a female Templar came to Alistair’s side. “King Alistair! This man is very dangerous!”


“Oh, the dwarf is a bit of an arse but he-”


“She means me.” Anders sighed, his eyes now more interested in the ground.


“This is an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice.” the woman said, malice dripping from her voice.


“Please, what you people know about justice could fit into a thimble. I’d just escape again anyhow…” Anders responded, ending his sentence with a annoyed groan.


“Never! I’ll see you hanged for what you’ve done here murderer!” the Templar hollered angrily.


“Murderer? But those Templars were already…oh why bother? You wouldn’t believe me anyhow.”


“Well, doesn’t seem like there’s much to be said. Unless you have something to add, Commander?” Alistair asked, looking to Anya.


“Yes, I am conscripting this mage into the Grey Wardens.” she said clearly and confidently.


“What?! Never!!!” the angry female Templar ordered.


“I believe the Wardens still retain the right of conscription? I will allow it, Rylock.” Alistair demanded sternly. Rylock just stormed off. Anya knew she had not seen the last of that particular Templar.


“Excuse me, arlessa?” Varel said, catching Anya’s attention. “I will take the rest and prepare for the Joining. Please return to the throne room when you are ready.” he explained, excusing himself right after and the Warden recruits followed.


“I regret that I cannot just toss the throne aside and help you. It’d be like old times, my dear.” Alistair sighed, taking her hands into his.


“I understand. You are a terribly busy king. I’m used to this kind of thing.” she told him adverting his gaze. Somehow, that did not comfort him. Alistair missed the fact that she used to need him. Now, she wanted little to nothing to do with him.


Alistair held her chin in his hand, making her look at him. He saw anger in her eyes that she was already working on covering up. Alistair took a deep breath and moved in, claiming her soft lips with his.


Anya stiffened, not truly reacting to Alistair’s show off affection.


The King pulled away, still just a mere inch from kissing his beloved once more, “I love you, Anya Cousland. Please remember that…” Without hearing a word from her, he was off, back to his castle in Denerim.

Anya stood there, feeling somewhat speechless for the moment. She did feel horrible for how she was treating Alistair. But, she couldn’t take telling him that there was a good possibility that she did not wish to be with him anymore. She didn’t want to see the heartbreak in those sweet puppy eyes of his.


‘I have to hold myself together. I cannot afford to fall apart.’ she told herself, making her way to the throne room. ‘I have too many things to think about already. The Joining. And if I remember correctly there is a prisoner Varel wished for me to check out.’ she recalled, opening the door to her throne room.


“Welcome back, Commander.” Varel greeted, the three promising Warden-Recruits standing before the seneschal and the Joining chalice.


“Let us begin with the Joining. Maker help them.” Anya said almost monotonely as she took her seat on the throne.


Anya didn’t listen to the Grey Warden oath, she’s heard it enough. “From this moment forth, Oghren, you are a Grey Warden.”


“What’s this; the sampler size?! You sayin something about my height?” Oghren growled, the goblet in between his hands.


“This is the cup we always use.” Varel assured as the dwarf grunted and took a huge swig of darkspawn blood.


Oghren’s eyes went completely white and he belched, “Hmm, not bad…” Anya palmed her face, groaning at the fact that Oghren didn’t even pass out!


“Maker help us all…” Varel groaned, moving onto Anders. “From this moment forth, Anders, you are a Grey Warden.”


“So, we just drink darkspawn blood? That’s it?” the mage asked, sounding unsure of the ritual.


“Yes, that’s it.” Varel answered plainly.


“Alright. But if I wake up in two weeks on a ship headed for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I’m blaming you.” Anders told the man and then took a sip of his test.


Anders’ reaction was fairly common, he passed out and Varel ran to his side, possibly checking his pulse. “Have no fear, Commander, he will live.”


Varel then moved onto Mhairi who sadly, did not survive the Joining. ‘She was such a promising Warden too.’ Anya thought sadly.


As servants moved Anders’ unconscious body to a bed to recover, Varel approached Anya. “Lady Cousland. There is still one matter you must tend to. The prisoner we apprehended a few days before the attack is still just sitting in a dungeon, waiting for your decision on his punishment.”


“I’m on my way then. Oghren, may I ask you a favor my friend?” she asked, getting the dwarf’s attention.


“Yeah, what?” he grunted, setting down his mug. Yes, he was already drinking again.


“Can you come with me to see this prisoner? He took out four Wardens a few days before that whole darkspawn mess.”


“Sure, not like there’s anything else to do round here.” Oghren said, walking to Anya’s side, trusty new axe on his back.

The walk to the dungeon was filled with talk between the two about different things; darkspawn, food and even women. Oghren and Anya stop talking when they set foot into the dungeon, the cellmaster walking up to the new Commander.


“Good to see you here, Commander. Bout time someone came to put this filth out of our misery. Good people died while this man was safe in his cell.” the young man growled, glaring at the prisoner.


Anya finally got a look at the infamous prisoner everyone’s been on about. He was wearing commoner clothing that was an orange color. His hair was black and in the same style as Zevran’s was. His eyes were just as dark as his hair and he had some facial hair just under his mouth. His skin was a creamy, milky hue. ‘Not too bad looking for a prisoner.’ she told herself, soon hushing that little voice into obscurity.


“Anything I should know about this man?” she asked, wanting as much information before making her decision.


“Sorry, not much, ma’am. He won’t say anything. I’ll go get seneschal Varel while you try and get something out of him.” the guard said, leaving Anya and Oghren alone with this potentially dangerous man.


Turning her gaze back to the man, Anya noticed him glaring daggers at her. “So, you’re the Hero of Ferelden; Conqueror and Vanquisher of all evil? Aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts coming out of your eyes?” he asked in a disparaging tone, standing up with his arms crossed.


“The darkspawn probably think so.” Anya retorted, trying to stay somewhat positive.


The man’s eyes grew even narrower, “I just assumed that my father’s murderer would be more…impressive.” he trailed off, his eyes never leaving her’s. “Do you even remember my father?” he asked in a hateful way.


Anya’s face didn’t change, nor did she show any signs of remembering. “I am Nathaniel, son of the late Rendon Howe, the man you slaughtered.” he growled.


“Oh, that would make sense. Perhaps he shouldn’t have massacred my family. Like a good friend of mine once said: ‘If someone betrays you, they should wake expecting your blade.’ He hurt countless innocent people in his quest for more power. My nephew for example.” Anya mimicked his stance, crossing her arms in defiance. She would not stand for her revenge on that slimy husk of a man to be ridiculed.


“My father was a good man who served the Hero of River Dane! He does not deserve to be slandered like he has. Every war has its sacrifices.” Nathaniel argued, somehow keeping his stoic voice.

Anya sighed, feeling this would not end any time soon. “Never mind that, Nathaniel. Why were you lurking around the Keep?”


Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. “I came back from the Free Marches not too long ago. When I heard what happened to my father, I came to set a trap for you…to kill you.” he answered, his words laced with venom.


“More important men then you have tried and failed, boy.” Oghren chimed in roughly, leaning against the table near the storage chest that held the prisoner’s effects.


“But, when I got here…I realized I only wanted a few of my family’s things.” the young Howe turned and faced the stone wall, his voice sounding…sad?


Anya felt her heart somewhat weaken. She could understand what he was going through a little. Her entire life changed when her family died, and now this Nathaniel was having his life turned upside-down. “The Howe’s are pariahs now…” she heard him whisper.


Anya thought for a second, her quick-wit had her know exactly what to say in a split-second. “I hear we had a tough time apprehending you, Nathaniel.”


“My time abroad wasn’t spent chasing skirts and drinking wine. I used it mostly to augment my skills.” he answered rather defensively.


“And what skills would those be?”


“Hunting, scouting…poisons. Why would you care?” Nathaniel asked, his eyes growing dark.


“Do you really hate me so much?” she asked, not receiving an answer. The Cousland sighed, letting her hands rest on her hips. “My point is; perhaps you should try to redeem your family name.” before Nathaniel could respond, Varel entered, coming to Anya’s side immediately.


“So, you’ve met the prisoner. Quite the handful, isn’t he?” Varel asked rhetorically.


“Did you know that he is a Howe?” Anya queried, watching the young man out of the corner of her eye and noticing he was keeping his gaze fixated entirely on her.


“The Howe’s are implacable enemies, Commander…have you decided what you wish to do with him?”


“Yes. I choose to have Nathaniel Howe conscripted into the Grey Wardens.” she decreed, not one syllable waning from the serious tone of her voice.


Nathaniel’s glare grew sharper, if possible. “You what?”


“Excuse me, milady. But, is this truly wise? What if he tries to steal again? Or worse, kill you?” Varel asked, concern clearly evident.


“He can try, and if he does try taking my life, I’ll kill him myself. We need more Wardens, Varel.” Anya explained seriously. She knew he couldn’t argue with a fact like that. Sure, it only took three Grey Wardens to end the Blight, but it was a huge gamble from the start.


“Never! I’d rather hang!” Nathaniel interjected, anger etched all over his handsome face.


Anya glared at the prisoner. “Did I say you had any choice in the matter?” she asked him darkly, surprising everyone, even Oghren, who dropped his mug of ale.


“You really want a Howe in the Wardens? You are a strange woman…” Nathaniel stuttered, shock still on his face.


Varel, Oghren and the Cellmaster led the potential Grey Warden to the throne room where the Joining will take place.


Varel performed the necessary preparations and filled the silver chalice with darkspawn blood.


Picking it up carefully as not to spill a drop, he walking over to Nathaniel and spoke the Warden’s oath once again. “From this moment, Nathaniel Howe, you are a Grey Warden.” He proclaimed, handing the goblet over to Nathaniel.


Anya noticed a small glimmer of hope in his dark brown eyes. “The moment of truth…” she barely heard him mumble.


Nathaniel then took a sip, dropping the chalice as his hands went to his head, eyes scrunched in pain. Then, he passed out.


Varel ran to the fallen man to check if he was a live or dead…