Chapter 1

Imperfect Origin

1

At last the pain had stopped. Darkness began to close in. It had been so many months of nothing but pain and loss. No, he knew that wasn't strictly true; there had been good times in spite of all he had been through. He had grown to know true friendship, honour and even love in his time with the Grey Wardens but all that was gone now, all of it that truly mattered at least, and all he was left with was the hurt that he could not get to stop. He had never known pain such as this, and if death would bring an end then he welcomed it.

He had believed himself to be strong, that being in the wardens had made him strong. He had faced hundreds, literally thousands of foes and bested them all and yet he had no defence for what he had found on top of Fort Drakon, at the end of his quest. So there he lay, at the top of the tallest tower in all of Denerim, capital city of Fereldan, his home, and he knew he was dying.

How had he wound up here? What had set him on this path? What if he had done things differently? He had so many questions. He knew that there was no point dwelling on them now, not here, at what would probably turn out to be the end of his life, but he couldn't help but think about the origin of his adventure. Perhaps it would have been better if Duncan had not come to Highever and saved his life.

He let out a final wheezing breath as his spirit left his body and travelled to the fade, whether it would return or not he did not know, and truly he did not care. He slipped into the land of spirits and demons, and his tale was unveiled before him.

2

Duncan, commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, sat in front of his campfire deep in thought. He had a decision to make and he did not intend to make the wrong one, many lives could rest on what action he took next.

One of Duncan's duties as commander of the Gray Wardens was to locate and recruit promising new members for the order. It was this duty that occupied his mind now. Duncan, in more peaceful times, took a very informal approach to recruitment, travelling Fereldan, meeting the people and selecting any exceptional individual that caught his eye; but with the way things were shaping up in the south Duncan new that he would have chance to recruit only one more potential Warden before what would almost certainly be a vital battle in the fight to stop the darkspawn.

In his hands Duncan held a sheet of parchment, on it he had a list of locations and a few names he had scribbled down over the course of the last couple of days, he sat reading them now.

The Dalish elves he thought to himself always a promising recruit to be found amongst them. Duncan knew the Dalish often raised gifted rogues and even the occasional mage, either one would be a great help against the horde of darkspawn. There was a problem however; because of the Dalish's often hostile relationship with humans; their clans were always on the move. While Duncan was confident in his tracking ability he knew that time was of the essence, and he had no guarantee that he could find them before he was called to the battle. Perhaps the city elves then? Duncan considered the idea, before deciding against it. The elves of Denerim were being increasingly repressed in recent times, banned from carrying swords or bows, so it would be possible, yet highly unlikely to find a recruit with any kind of combat training, something that would be a necessity in the fight to come.

Duncan glanced down at his list again, first name he laid his eyes upon was 'Ser Gilmore', who could be found in Highever. Duncan remembered this young man, he had put on quite a good performance at the Teyrn's summer games, ranking second in the duelling tournament. The boy has decent skills Duncan thought but he's missing something. He lacks a certain passion, the kind of ferocity that moulds a truly great Grey Warden. He would suffice if there were no other option, he is a safe bet, and the Wardens could always use a strong sword arm. But no, if I can only find one recruit he must be a truly remarkable one.

Perhaps there is something to be found in the kingdom of dwarves, many a great warrior has been found beneath the stone. Duncan considered visiting the nobles of Orzammar, but he knew that it would be difficult to tempt any individual from a life of luxury and into an order that would lead them to an early death, he couldn't take the risk of leaving empty handed. Maybe he could pay a visit to Dust town, and seek out a recruit among the Casteless who live there, but most of them were criminals; and while Duncan had no issue with recruiting criminals into the order, some of the greatest Wardens of all time had come from less than ideal origins after all, the Casteless did not have a reputation for speaking freely to outsiders. It would take time to gain their trust even for a well-respected Warden such as Duncan, and time was one thing he did not have.

The circle tower then, he thought to himself, any mage would be an incredible asset against the darkspawn. But with things the way they are there is no guarantee that Knight-Commander Greagoir would even allow me to take one of the mages from under his watch; and while I cannot go to Ostagar empty-handed, I do not want a conflict with the templars on top of everything else. Still, it seems to be the best option I have, Duncan thought as he rolled up the parchment and put it into his knapsack. He looked to the East, it would not be long till dawn's first light crept over the horizon. He had to move quickly. He stood and kicked dirt onto his campfire, extinguishing the flames. He collected his belongings and began walking west towards the circle tower. Wait something in the back of his mind called out to him. There is another. In Highever, the Teyrn's son! Duncan remembered the lad well, he had some exceptional fighting skill but the Duncan knew there was more to the boy than that, if the rumours Duncan had heard were true the Teyrn's second son had a knack for getting into trouble. He was wild and rough around the edges yet he had fire. He had that certain something, that indefinable attribute that separates a good Warden from a great Warden.

There would be no guarantee that the Teyrn would allow his son to join the order. Quite the opposite in fact, he had met Bryce Cousland and knew of the love he had for his children. Duncan was almost certain that he would be against the idea. Yet it might be worth the risk, the worst-case scenario he would leave with only Ser Gilmour, a reasonable recruit in himself. But if things went well then he would leave with two recruits instead of one, he thought it might be worth the gamble. So Duncan turned his attention north and began walking.

Taking the first steps of a journey that would change the world.

3

Dante Cousland, the second son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland, awoke in his bed chamber. He sat up, using one hand to brush his long black hair from his eyes. He looked around the room, blinking in the light, and upon seeing the young Elven woman dressing herself; he remembered the night before with fondness.

The girl was one of the house servants, new to the job, if he was not mistaken. He did not pretend to know all of his father's servants by name, but one as attractive as she was would not have been able to avoid his attention for long. She stood there with her back to him, buttoning her blouse, and naked from the waist down. 'You're leaving already?' he asked her, propping himself up on his elbow and running his eyes up and down her form.

'You are awake my lord, and before noon, your father would be shocked.' she turned her head and smiled at him.

'I have no problem getting out of bed, as long as there is something to get out of bed for' he told her as he pulled back the sheets and stood up. The stone of the floor was cold on his feet, a refreshing change from the clinging heat of a thick bear skin blanket, especially when shared with another body. He considered taking a sheet to wrap around his waist, but decided against it, modesty had never been something he had worried about. 'Will you not stay a while?' he asked walking towards her.

'I have much work to do my lord and we have wasted much of the morning already.'

'Wasted? Do I really mean so little to you?' He grabbed her arm gently yet firmly and turned her around, placing one hand on her buttocks he pulled her towards him, pressing their bodies against each other.

'You are only interested in one thing, my lord. I have heard much about you.'

So, apparently this girl, although new, had already heard the rumours. He was hardly surprised, there were not many people in Highever who had not heard the stories about the Teyrn's womanising youngest son, and he knew how the servants liked to gossip. He did not mind the tales they told of him, why should he? It was all true.

Dante knew that he could not be described as an ideal heir to his father's legacy, but that was much more his elder brother Fergus's destiny than his own anyway. His brother was much more suited to the job that he. Fergus was calm, logical, diplomatic, he had a good relationship with the local people as well as other Fereldan nobles. Whereas Dante was quick to anger, passionate, easily bored and while his countrymen enjoyed discussing his exploits he had an idea that they wouldn't think it was quite as amusing if he was in charge of their livelihoods. Dante wondered if he would even take the position if he was offered it, he liked the idea of power and wealth, but he had a craving for adventure, one that he would not be able to satisfy from a position in government.

He decided to play along with the girl. Feigning surprise, his jaw dropped. 'I am shocked. I realise I have a reputation around the castle but I thought we truly shared something intimate last night. It was a beautiful thing, more than just physical, even more than emotional, you could say it was a spiritual experience. There was a connection between us on a deeper level than I have ever felt before. A unique experience, I would have said that it is too early to claim love, but who knows?'

'Very well my Lord, I will stay…' she looked into his eyes.

'Excellent.'

'If you can tell me my name.'

He paused, looking back at her and considering. 'Fair enough then' he said as he threw himself back on to the bed. 'Oh and would you mind shutting the door on your way out?' He reached over to his bedside table where there stood a clay pot, he lifted it up to his ear and shook it, hearing the liquid moving inside he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply, it was a particularly delicious vintage even for Orlesian wine which was always quite delicious.

He set the pot back on the table and rested his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes. He heard he door open and close behind her, she had gone. Thinking of his exploits from the night before, he smiled to himself and relaxed, he was just about to fall asleep again when there came a knock at the door. Dante sighed, 'Yes?'

'Pardon the interruption my lord, it is Ser Gilmour, your father has requested your presence in the main hall.'

'Tell my father I will see him before he rides out tonight, there is no rush.' He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillows.

'With all due respect sir, he said it was urgent, he also told me not to return until I was sure that you were up and dressed.'

'Fine, fine' Dante grumbled, sliding again from his comfortable bed. He walked over to the wardrobe and took out some light leather armour that he liked to wear when wandering around the castle. 'All right' he said swinging open the door to look at Ser Gilmour, 'as you can see I am up and I am dressed. You can tell my father that you have done your job and I shall see him shortly.'

'Thank you, my lord' Ser Gilmour gave a brief salute and turned away, marching down the hall, off to conduct some other business.

Dante liked Ser Gilmour, a fact that he himself found strange, considering that the two men were almost polar opposites of each other. In Dante's opinion he could stand to cut loose a little bit more, everything was always about work and duty with him. Dante walked over to the wall on which he displayed many different weapons he had collected over the years. He picked a standard sword and shield and slung them over his back. Dante moved back to the bedside table and took another swig of the Orlesian wine, before leaving his room to speak to his father.

4

It was only a short walk between Dante's bed chamber and the main hall in which his father waited. He opened the door and looked inside. The castles' main hall was a huge room, with thick grey stone walls that supported its high ceiling, though he remembered it looking even bigger to him when he was a child. As a boy he had spent many hours in here, hiding from his mother when he had misbehaved, or the castles priestess, Mother Mallol, when it was time one of her sermons, which to this day he still could not abide.

He could see his father, staring into the large fire that was blazing at one side of the hall, filling the room with heat. He looks worried. Dante thought to himself perhaps something has gone awry with the battle plans. Behind his father stood a second man, whom Dante recognised immediately as Arl Howe, one of his father's oldest friends.

His father turned to look at Howe, 'It is not a serious problem' he said to his friend 'I'll send my eldest of with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days.'

'True' Howe replied 'but we had less grey in our hair then; and we fought Orlesians, not monsters'

'At least the smell will be the same' the Teyrn laughed

Dante approached his father, there were several of Howe's guards in the room. One of the guards, clearly higher ranked than the rest, stared at him as he crossed the room. Dante met his gaze, the two men tried to stare each other down, but neither would budge, Dante felt his anger growing, he was just about to ask the man, a knight judging by his armour, if he had some kind of problem when is father turned his head, seeing his son for the first time. 'I'm sorry pup; I didn't see you there. Howe you remember my youngest son of course?'

'I see he's grown into a fine young man. Please to see you again, lad.' Dante looked away from the knight, and brought his attention to Arl Howe, he would have time for the knight later.

'and you, Arl Howe' Dante replied with a nod of the head. Dante had always liked Arl Howe, he seemed like the kind of man who didn't wait for what he wanted, the kind of decisive man that Dante believe himself to be.

'My daughter Delilah asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time.'

'Are you sure that's wise Howe?' Bryce said with a laugh, 'you have no doubt heard stories of my roguish lad'

'you may just be right, my old friend.' Howe looked to Dante 'unless you are finally ready to take a wife and settle down?'

'As lovely as your Delilah is, Arl Howe, I have no interest in an arranged marriage'

'See, what I contend with, Howe? You can't tell my fierce boy anything these days, Maker bless his heart.'

'A temperament to match his fighting skill. Well done, your Lordship.' They shared another laugh before Bryce's face turned serious.

'At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I leaving you in charge of the castle.' Pup, I am almost a full foot taller than my father, stronger than him, faster, better with swords and women both; and still he calls me 'pup'.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, there were more pressing matters to attend to. 'I still don't see why I can't go into battle with you and Fergus.'

'I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war.'

'No disrespect, father, but I am twice the fighter that Fergus is. If anyone should stay behind it should be him.'

'It is not all about who can swing a sword the best, pup, you are too young and too brash. I need a level head fighting next to me. Someone I can depend on.'

'You can depend on me!'

'I think you have proven that I cannot.'

'Will you never let that go?' Dante could feel himself getting angry, and he was pretty sure his father could see it as well.

'This is a discussion for another time, pup. Anyway, there is someone I want you to meet.' His father skilfully changed the subject. Always the diplomat. Bryce turned to one of the servants, 'please show Duncan in.'

The servant, whom Dante recognised as the beautiful young elf who had shared his bed night before, turned and opened the small door on the Northern side of the hall and in stepped a tall bearded man whom Dante had never met before. The man must have been in his 50s, but you would not have been able to tell by the way he moved, he stepped with the grace of a much younger man and it was obvious that he had extensive combat training. He was wearing armour that Dante guessed had been custom made for him, and not cheaply either.

The man walked over and stopped at Bryce's side. He bowed, 'It is an honour to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland.' Dante looked at Arl Howe, who was visibly shaken for some reason. Perhaps they have met before, and did not part on good terms. It is easy to see why someone would be afraid of a man such as this, he is clearly a formidable warrior. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Arl Howe had composed himself. 'Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present.'

'Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?'

'Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… At a disadvantage.' Arl Howe said sincerely.

'We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true. Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?'

Brother Aldous, Dante's tutor, had indeed told him many stories of the fabled Grey Wardens and their exploits. 'Indeed father, they defeated the darkspawn long ago.'

Duncan turned to him 'Not permanently, I fear.'

'Duncan is looking for recruits before joining the army and his fellow Grey Wardens in the South. I believe he has got his eye on Sir Gilmour.'

'If I might be so bold' Duncan responded 'I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate for recruitment.'

Bryce was perturbed by this 'An… an honour though that might be, this is one of my sons are talking about.'

'I don't know father. Being a legendary hero sounds like something I might be interested in.'

'I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?' he looked at the Warden fearfully.

'Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing issue.'

Bryce relax, 'Excellent, now pup; Duncan, Arl Howe and I have much to discuss. Be a good lad and find Fergus, tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar tonight, ahead of Howe and I. We will meet with him there.'

'Very well father' Dante looked to Duncan, 'perhaps you and I could discuss my recruitment once father has left?'

'Pup, now is not the time for this, do as I have asked.'

'Fine, as you wish.' Dante turned and left the hall.

5

Speaking to his father had left Dante more than a little angry. He treats me like a child. Yes, I have made mistakes, I admit to them all, but how am I to accomplish anything when he will not trust me to leave the castle grounds? Not only will he not let me fight by his side but he will not let me go my own way to find my own fame and glory. One stupid mistake, I let my emotions get the better of me once, and I am forever condemned to a life of constant belittlement .

It was true, Bryce was unwilling to let his youngest son out from under his eye, or from under the eyes of his castle guards. Dante had a reputation as a troublemaker, he was black sheep of the Cousland family. Completely unlike his elder brother who strived to earn a good reputation with the Fereldan nobles. It was the safest thing for the family and the future of the Cousland line to keep Dante out of trouble and out of the public eye.

Upon leaving the hall Dante began walking back towards the bed chambers where he would likely find his brother and deliver his father's message. 'My Lord!' Dante to see Ser Gilmour running up behind him. 'There you are my Lord! Your mother told me that the Teyrn had summoned you, so I did not want to interrupt.'

'What is it you want, Ser Gilmour?'

'I fear your hound has kitchens in uproar once again,' he spoke while trying to catch breath 'Nan is threatening to leave.'

'Then why have you not gotten the dog yourself?'

'You know these mabari war hounds. They listen only to their master; anyone else risks having an arm bitten off.'

'Well I do not have time for this right now, Ser Gilmour.'

'Your mother insists you take care of this now, your quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Still, that intelligence means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself. At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?'

Dante let out a sigh 'Very well.'

The two men began walking to the kitchen. When Dante spotted his mother and three guests talking amongst themselves. As Dante approached the recognised one of them as Lady Landra one of his mother's friends. A woman with a taste for old Orlesian wine and young Fereldan men if he remembered correctly. Another one of the guests he recognised as Diarren, Lady Landra's son. He had fought against Diarren in a few of his Father's tournaments. He was a nice enough individual, yet has no skill for swordplay; it had taken Dante only a few seconds to disarm and force Diarren to submit. The third guest Dante did not know, yet he planned to rectify that shortly. She was a young Elven girl with long blonde hair, she had a pretty face and a nice figure, exactly the kind of girl he enjoyed spending his evenings with.

As the two men approached group Dante heard his mother telling an old anecdote, about a necklace her husband had given her from Orlais. She turned to them they got close. 'Ah, here is my son, along with Ser Gilmour. Tell me, Ser Gilmour, has my pup collared that dog yet?' she asked.

'Not just yet, your ladyship.'

'See that it gets done, would you?'

'As your ladyship commands.'

Teyrna Eleanor turned to look at her youngest son. 'With any luck, I'll be able to feed my guests before end of next week. Darling, you remember Lady Landra?'

'I think we last met at your mothers spring salon.' Landra said, extending her hand.

'Of course, how could I forget someone as lovely as you. It is good to see you again, my lady.' Dante said reaching out and kissing her hand, he looked up at her and smiled, that smile that had lured so many women into his arms, but he knew that it had many uses.

Landra giggled, 'You're too kind, dear boy. Didn't I spend half the salon shamelessly flirting with you?'

'Right in front of your family, too' Diarren said with a laugh.

'You remember my son, Diarren? I believe you two sparred in the last tourney.'

'..and you beat me handily, as I recall' Diarren jumped in 'Its good to see you again, my lord.'

'And you, Diarren.' Dante replied, personably enough but his eyes had been drawn to the young woman stood just behind him, she met his eyes for a moment before looking to the ground shyly.

'And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona.' Landra introduced, but Iona continued to look at the ground. 'Do say something, dear.' Lady Landra said with a nudge.

'It is a great honour, my lord. I have heard many wonderful things about you.' Iona said in a very small voice, only once briefly looking up at him.

'Don't look now, Eleanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad.'

'Lady Landra!' Iona blurted, clearly mortified by her Lady's claim.

'Hush, Landra. You will turn the poor thing scarlet.' the Teyrna tried to interject.

'Perhaps we should speak alone, a little later, Iona?' Dante said in his kindest voice. Now girl did look up.

'As it…' She hesitated, 'Pleases you, my lord.'

The group exchanged some more pleasantries before Dante and Ser Gilmour made their excuses and left for the kitchen.

The pair had made it halfway to the kitchen when Ser Gilmour turned to his friend, 'How do you do that?'

'Do what?'

'Speak to women so easily?'

Dante was about to say that it wasn't easy, that he had honed his skills over many years, but that wasn't the truth. The truth was it had always been easy for him. Ever since he could remember he had a natural charm that made women fall to their knees before him, often literally. It didn't hurt that he had inherited his father's good looks, he was tall and slim, he had a chiselled jaw, high cheek bones, long black hair he often tied loosely into a ponytail. He kept clean shaven for the majority of time which made him look sophisticated and debonair, and he had large dark eyes which turned women into putty in his hands. But it was more than just good looks, he had confidence. The more women he had the more his confidence grew, and the more he is confidence grew the more women he had.

There were downsides however, his good looks and charm, while making extremely popular with farmers daughters and nobles daughters equally, made him extremely unpopular with their fathers. More than once he had gotten himself and his family into trouble, but it was normally solved quickly and effectively by his father. Every time, except once, when he had nearly brought down his entire family. One bad choice and he had to spend five years away from his home, travelling the Free Marches because it was too dangerous to stay in Fereldan. This was why his family didn't trust him, why they kept him inside and out of trouble. In truth he felt bad about the problems he had brought them, but they had to start trusting him sooner or later, didn't they?

Finally he turned to Ser Gilmour, 'it's about taking control, my friend, women long for a man who takes command. Let them know that you're in charge and they'll turn to jelly in your hands.'

'You make sound so simple.'

'That's because it is simple.'

The two men drew close to the kitchen, they could hear a great deal of barking and screaming coming from within, mixed with the crash of plates hitting the ground.

'Let's get this over with' Dante said as they entered.

Inside they found Nan and the two Elven kitchen servants stood in a group around the larder door.

'What's the problem?' Dante asked, already knowing the problem.

'You! That bloody dog of yours has gotten into the larder again!' Nan yelled at him 'That beast should be put down!'

'Calm down Nan, I'll go get him.' Dante said, trying to hold back a smile.

Dante and Ser Gilmour entered the larder and sure enough; there was Dante's mabari war hound, Dane. The dog was pacing up and down the length of the small room, nose to the ground. Upon heating his master's entry the dog turned and looked at him, wagging his tale.

'Come on boy, you know you shouldn't be in here.' Dante tried to beckon the dog to his side but Dane wouldn't budge; instead he barked lay on the ground, looking at something.

'Is everything alright?' Ser Gilmour asked.

Dante hesitated, looking at his pet, 'I'm not sure, I think he's trying to tell me something.' No sooner had the words left his lips than a wave of giant rats came pouring out from a large pile of crates in one corner of the room, they made a break for the open door leading into the kitchen.

'Shut the door!' Dante yelled at Ser Gilmour, who did as he was commanded. Dane was the first to tear into the group of rats, picking them up in his mouth and shaking them until their speaks halted. Dante and Gilmour soon joined in, using their swords as well as their boots to quash the vermin. It only took a few minutes until all of the rats were dead.

Ser Gilmour walked over to the body of a particularly large rat and turned it over with his boot. 'Giant rats? It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder after all.'

Dane gave a bark to show he agreed with Ser Gilmour.

'Yes well, it certainly looks that way, doesn't it?' Dante said, giving Dane a congratulatory scratch on the head. Ser Gilmour bent down and looked at the rat more closely.

'These are rats from the Korcari Wilds.'

'This far north?'

'Apparently so. Best not to tell Nan, she's upset enough as it is. I'll send someone to clean up the mess. But seeing as you've got your mabari well in hand, I'll be on my way. I am to prepare for the arrival of more of the Arl's men.'

The three of them left the larder. Ser Gilmour gave Dante another quick bow and left the kitchen. 'There he is!' Nan yelled marching towards them 'As brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!'

'Yes, well, what can you do?' Dante said nonchalantly.

'Look at him, now. Snuck into my larder once again and makes off like a free thief, he does.'

That was when one of the servants opened the door to the larder and saw the carnage left there.

'Mistress! There are rats in the larder! Big ones!' she cried.

'It looks like the dog killed them.' The second servant interjected.

Nan looked down at the dog 'I bet that dog lead those rats in there to begin with.'

'Yes well, if there is nothing else Nan, I have other duties to attend to.' Dante turned and left the kitchen, Dane right behind him.