(A/N: This is a retelling of the events of the Fall of Highever, from the perspective of the Aedan Cousland I play on Warden's Vigil. In the WV timeline, these events occurred in August, 9:29 Dragon. As always, many thanks to Bioware for encouraging community creations.)

"Milord Aedan! Milord Aedan!"

Aedan raised his head from the book on Qunari tactics he was reading, but otherwise didn't move from his comfortable position in the library. His feet were propped on a second chair he'd pulled up, one knee crooked upward. He hadn't any duties to see to today, even though the castle was abuzz with energy as the troops prepared to set out and the servants tried to keep up with all the new bodies requiring food and places to rest, and entertainment as well. The energy flowed around Aedan's head, more of an annoyance than anything because it didn't include him.

Highever was marching to war, and Aedan still didn't know if he was going or not.

He gave the page a flash of a smile and let his book fall to his lap. "What is it, lad?"

"The Teyrn..." The page paused for breath, his tiny frame heaving with the effort. "Requests your presence. In the Great Hall."

Finally. About Maker-damned time."Thank you. Off with you to the kitchen, then. Nan's likely got a treat for you."

The page sketched a quick bow, then went racing off again. Aedan spared a thought about what he'd been like at that age, and decided that he had never moved quite that quickly. Iain MacKinnon might have; his friend rarely stayed still for any length of time.

He pushed to his feet, trying to calm the excitement that threatened to break loose. No doubt Da had summoned him to share what his assignment would be as they marched to Ostagar. Aedan suspected the task was not going to be an enjoyable one—why hesitate in sharing it, if that wasn't the case?—but truthfully, at this moment he didn't care. Maybe he would, once he was in the thick of it, but right now, all that mattered was that he was going to march with his brother and father. The Couslands, off to battle, against the world's greatest threat: the darkspawn. Aedan wasn't an idiot over heroic tales, but even he could appreciate the significance of it.

Aedan tried to keep from trotting down the hall and just barely managed to keep his pace sedate. When he pushed open the door, he was greeted by the sight of soldiers, and his father, and another nobleman, as well. His steps faltered for just an instant before he moved into the Hall.

Bryce Cousland smiled at Aedan as he approached. "I'm sorry, pup. I didn't see you there."

Aedan tried not to roll his eyes at the nickname. He knew his father meant nothing by it, but Maker's breath. He was nearly twenty-two years of age! The pet term had been fine when he was just a lad, but those days were long gone.

"That might be because I just got here, Da." Aedan chuckled at the mock scowl Bryce sent his way, a wide smile creasing his features. "You wanted to see me?"

Bryce gave him a bit of an eyeroll before turning to the Arl standing at his side. Aedan had always thought that his father's friend was a bit unfortunate in the looks department, but he was a true ally to the Couslands and one of Bryce's oldest comrades. And Aedan knew his place. Joking with his family and friends was one thing, but Rendon Howe's title demanded more respect than that.

"You remember my son, Aedan?"

"I see he's grown into a fine young man." Arl Howe's voice was gravelly and nasally at the same time, no doubt due to the generous honker that sat astride his face. "Pleased to see you again, lad."

"And you, my lord." Aedan inclined his head, just a bit.

A glint entered the Arl's eyes, one Aedan was all too used to seeing in fathers of noble daughters. The second son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland was quite the catch, considering he was the last young and eligible bachelor of the upper echelon of nobility. He inhaled deeply, trying not to show it, as his eyes flicked to his father. Bryce's expression hadn't changed—it was still a gentle smile—but his eyes carried a message all their own, another silent missive Aedan had received more than once.

Behave.

"My daughter Delilah asked after you," Arl Howe continued, unsurprisingly. "Perhaps I should bring her next time."

Aedan gritted his teeth for a moment. Delilah Howe was a nice enough looking young woman, but she was young. The Arl wasn't suggesting a dalliance; he was suggesting marriage, and Aedan had no desire to fasten himself to any one woman just yet. He was no Chantry brother and definitely notin the market for a wife. His gaze drifted to his father again, and that wordless message was ever clearer.

Behave.

Flames.

"I'd...like that, my lord." If the Arl noticed the stilted nature of Aedan's words he didn't point it out. Maker, he just hoped he hadn't stumbled into a verbal contract with that statement. If he did, he'd make sure his father never heard the end of it.

"Good." The Arl grinned, and Aedan's stomach dropped. Yes, he would have to plan to be away...doing something...when Rendon Howe returned with his daughter. "She goes on about your prowess as a warrior." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "I think you have an admirer, young man."

Oh...wonderful.

"At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason." Aedan could almost forgive his father the nickname this time. Getting on with business meant they wouldn't have to speak of his potential romantic pursuits any longer. "While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

Aedan's stomach dropped. He'd suspected that he wouldn't like the task Da had for him, but this? Staying behind? Running the castle? That wasn't what he wanted. He'd trained for years to fight, and he was damned good at it, too.

And Fergus, once again, going off on an adventure without him. Damn it. When was it going to be his turn, hm? When was he going to get a chance to really see the world beyond Highever? Flames, even Finnywas going. Iain had been in a funk ever since the news dropped.

It wasn't fair. He didn't care about the castle. He wanted to be on the battlefield.

"Why can't I go with you and Fergus?" His voice was more than a little petulant, and for a moment he forgot that it wasn't just him and his father standing in the Great Hall.

"I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war." Da's lips twisted, no doubt imagining Mum's very vocal objections. "She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

"Right. So I get to stay here. Again." Aedan's eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't care about the Maker-damned castle. I want to fight!"

Bryce's eyes grew cold. Aedan knew what that meant: he'd be in for a verbal lashing later, once the Arl had frittered off to do whatever it was he was going to do. When he spoke, though, Da's voice was even. "You'll have your chance soon enough. This is no needless task. I ask you to take a great responsibility."

But it wasn't the responsibility Aedan wanted! Couldn't he see that? Fergus was set to inherit the teyrnir; let himstay and run the castle, damn it.

"Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep the peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

They get pissed off and lead a rebellion? Really, the teyrnir of Highever was probably one of the most peaceful regions in Ferelden. This was a useless task. Useless! Mother was staying—she was Teyrna, let her do it!

Before Aedan could draw a breath to voice that opinion, Bryce continued. "There's also someone you must meet. Please, show Duncan in."

The closest guard saluted, and a moment later, a strangely armored, dark-skinned man joined the group of noblemen. Aedan took in the ponytail, beard and earring—really? Who wore such an adornment on the battlefield? A scowl darkened Aedan's features. So, not only babysitting the castle, but babysitting a foreign dignitary too. How absolutely flaming brilliant.

"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said with a bow. His voice had a bit of an accent, but nothing Aedan could place. Though he looked Rivaini, he sounded more Fereldan than that. It was rather an odd mix, one that Aedan couldn't quite figure out.

Arl Howe seemed to recognize this Duncan right away, however, and a look of vast surprise flickered over his face, before it was calmed. "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

A Grey Warden? Aedan looked at the dark-skinned man again. He knew a bit about the Wardens—who didn't, really—and all the tales he'd heard spoke of the Wardens' phenomenal prowess in battle. They were the best of the best, warriors without equal. This man, thisDuncan, though...Aedan was not impressed.

Bryce frowned at the Arl, just the barest twitch of his brow, but Aedan could tell the comment had taken him by surprise. "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

Howe inclined his head, the picture of subservient vassal. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am...at a disadvantage."

What protocol? If Duncan wasn't a titled noble, then he was, at best, on the same level as a knight. An Arl or a Teyrn outranked him. Yes, the Grey Wardens were a much-needed fighting force, but they were little better than a troupe of mercenaries. Instead of men, though, their targets were darkspawn. So, really, what Maker-damned protocol was needed?

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," Bryce said to Howe. Once more, his chilly light gaze took in Aedan. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

"Is there a reason I should care?" The words escaped Aedan before he could think better of it, and he winced as temper flashed across Da's face.

"Maker's breath, Aedan! Mind your manners!" If they'd been alone, Aedan knew he would've likely gotten a sharp cuff across the back of his head to go along with that admonishment.

Duncan's face, however, remained expressionless. "It is all right, Teyrn Cousland. The order is not what it once was—"

"I'll not have the Wardens spoken ill of in my household." Da's temper was smoldering now, and Aedan found his own rising to match it. "Without them, the darkspawn would have killed us all in the first Blight. They are the only reason men still live in Thedas."

Well, perhaps they should have a parade, then. Aedan didn't particularly like the childish tone of his thoughts, but he decided it didn't really matter. His father thought him little better than a boy; that was obvious. Why else would he exclude him from the fighting force?

Bryce took a breath, then continued, his tone somewhat calmer than it had been. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Rory? Wonderful. Something more to inflate the knight's head.

Was that the slightest half-grin that curved the Grey Warden's lips? "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate," he said, nodding in Aedan's direction.

Aedan perked up at that. Oh, really? He hadn't much use for the Wardens, but all the tales agreed that they only recruited the most skilled. He cast a glance at his father, waiting to see if this statement would have any impact on Bryce's decision that Aedan should look after the castle. If the sodding Wardensthought he would be a worthwhile recruit, surely that would tell Da that he belonged with the army?

Bryce, however, stepped in front of Aedan, blocking him from Duncan as one might protect a child from a rushing bear. Aedan's teeth and fists clenched at the belief implied by his father's action: that he was nothing more than a boy, needing to be guarded.

"Honor though that might be," Da said, "this is one of my sons we're talking about."

Aedan stared at his father's back, seething. "Perhaps thatwould get me into battle," he muttered.

"That discussion is closed." Bryce's reprimand was sharp and instantaneous.

Support for the idea of Aedan as a Grey Warden came from an unlikely source—Arl Howe. "You did just finish saying that Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend." His voice held humor, as if he enjoyed poking holes in Bryce's words. Aedan wasn't quite sure he appreciated that, but he didn't mind the idea behind the prodding.

"I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all of to battle," Da said to Howe. Then he turned his attention back to Duncan. "Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription...?"

Duncan smiled and shook his head. "Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Da turned to Aedan. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

He might not be a foreign dignitary as Aedan had first supposed, but the duties were the same. Babysitting. He gritted his teeth. "Don't strain my abilities or anything."

"And don't strain my patience!" Bryce snapped. "In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

"So that's it? You're trying to get rid of me?"

"We must discuss the battle plans in the south."

Aedan mollified his tone as his father's eyes glittered with temper once more. "But Da, I can help! You know I'm good with strategy. Maybe I can see something you won't. A fresh look. Please—"

Bryce deliberately turned his eyes away then, and Aedan knew his pleas would not be answered in the way he wished. "Be a good lad and do as I've asked." His eyes flicked back to his son. "We'll...talk soon."

Talk. Right. It would likely include a reprimand for his attitude and declarations of disappointment. Aedan had heard it all before, usually when he'd been caught carrying out one of his pranks against Jenna Kincade. Which hadn't happened in years, he wanted to point out. Never mind that he hadn't seen her since they were eighteen.

But this was different. He could make a difference, damn it! Why didn't his father see it? Why was he being made to stay behind...again? It was unfair. It was so blasted unfair that not only was Fergus going to fight at their father's side, he was going to lead the troops in his father's absence. Why not let Fergus stay home with his family instead? Aedan was sure Oren would rather have his da in the castle than his uncle.

It just didn't make any Maker-damned sense. But he was smart enough to know that arguing about it, now, wouldn't make a difference.

"Fine." The word was filled with contempt, but he couldn't mask it. Let Da know he wasn't happy; what did he care? He was just the castle's caretaker, no one important.

He turned on his heel and strode from the room, off to find his brother like a good lad.