A/N: This is actually a re-write of a story I started a while ago. I decided that I wasn't particularly happy with how it was progressing, and have now begun to rework it through. I hope that this rendition is better than the first! This is not just a play-through fiction (which, the first version started to turn into)… just read and find out! The main AU stuff will start in the next couple of chapters :-) Please let me know what you think – I absolutely adore reviews!

Update: As of November 3, 2012, my pen name has changed from Rhapsody88 to Kyla Baines.

Chapter 1

The day was fair and breezy with early evening rays of the sun streaming out from behind the light and nebulous clouds. The bleached stone of Highever provided a canvas and pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows were thrown into relief on the walls. This beauty was, for the moment, lost on Melodee Cousland.

Stormy grey eyes flashed with ire as she stood up, brushing dirt from her trousers. Her raven hair, hastily braided back, had several small twigs and plenty of dust dulling its usual luster. She was of slight build, but had more than enough personality to make up for her small stature. "My little spitfire," her father, the honorable Teyrn of Highever would call her.

Her gaze was now fixed on her training partner and friend, Ser Gilmore. He was shaking with laughter, red hair clashing horribly with the sunset, as Melodee picked herself up, cursing under her breath. She caught sight of his mirth.

"If this is so funny to you, Gilmore, let's go again!" she said with heat, thoroughly irritated that he had bested her. "If I had my usual blades, you wouldn't be so lucky right now."

"Believe me, my lady, I am well aware of that." Gilmore smirked at his friend. "However, as I've already told you, it's essential that you learn to adapt to different conditions should the need arise."

Melodee scowled. She knew the truth of his words, but her pride and arse were too bruised to admit that at present. It was rare to find a sparring partner that could push her to her limits anymore, and Ser Gilmore had stepped up and offered to help her improve. He constantly tested her abilities, gave her advice, and never held back during practice – something that the other knights usually did, seeing as it was the Teyrn's daughter they were striking out at.

"Shall we try again?" the knight asked.

Melodee was about to respond when one of the younger pages ran towards them. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, and his bright blue eyes burned with excitement at being sent on an errand.

"My lady!" He slid to a halt, barely remembering to salute the full knight that accompanied Melodee. "The Teyrn has requested that you meet him in the Great Hall."

She acknowledged the boy, who ran off again, only pausing long enough to stare in open awe at Ser Gilmore's highly polished armor, every rivet reflecting light, and the green heraldry of Highever and white laurel wreath of the Cousland's proudly declared his loyalty.

Melodee sighed. Of all the times for her father to request her presence, he would choose immediately after a particularly rough training session! As she walked through back to the main castle from the practice grounds, she attempted to clean herself up a bit, realizing after a moment that it was a lost cause. Resigned to this fact, she grabbed an apple from a basket in passing, and savored the sweet juice that flooded her mouth upon breaking open the skin with her teeth.

She finished the snack rapidly, and pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. Silken drapes were already artfully hung from the high rafters in the green and white colors of her family – decorations for the feast that was being prepared for later that evening. As she strode forward, her footsteps echoing around the vast room, her father turned to greet her, a smile appearing as the sight of his daughter.

"Ah, Pup! Come here." Bryce Cousland embraced his daughter fondly before gesturing to the man standing in front of him. "I suspect that you remember Arl Howe?"

Melodee turned her gaze on her father's guest. Howe was a rather unpleasant looking individual: his hair was greying, and his muddy brown eyes appeared permanently irritated. His large nose turned crookedly down, as if it had been broken but never healed correctly. His lips were currently twisted into a smirk.

"Indeed. I hope that you are well, ser." Melodee inwardly winced as she noted the rather icy tone she had used. Though she wasn't entirely sure why, Howe had always unsettled her. Part of it was perhaps due to his appearance.

Although, there was last summer when the Howes were here… He attempted all evening to get me interested in his son, Thomas, not realizing that I couldn't stand to look at the mousy-faced git, seeing as he reminded me so much of his father.

Howe's dull eyes regarded her now. "Well, well, Bryce. I see that your… daughter… is growing up splendidly. And, what's this?" His eyebrow rose at seeing the messy state her hair was in. "Surely you don't still allow her to play soldier with the guard?" Contempt for her appearance was plain on his face.

Bryce stepped towards his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he placed an arm around her shoulders. "And why not? She has turned into one of the finest duelists in Highever. I feel that I would be remiss as a father if I did not allow her some small joys outside of her future responsibilities. Not to mention, she needs to be prepared to defend herself should, Maker forbid, something terrible happen."

Melodee thought she saw a flicker of something – was is suspicion, or perhaps fear? – pass through Howe's eyes at this last comment, but it was gone the second she looked closer. She gave herself a small shake and turned to her father once more. He was still smiling, seemingly oblivious to Howe's odd mannerisms. "I was told you required my presence, father?"

"Ah, yes, Pup. I need you to inform Fergus that he will be riding for Ostagar tonight, rather than tomorrow with my retinue and me." His voice trailed off as a new figure entered the hall. "Ah! Duncan! Greetings, and warmest welcome to Highever."

Melodee followed her father's gaze to see a tall, powerfully built man, his dark hair pulled severely out of his face with an expression to match his businesslike appearance. At the man's entrance, Howe shifted uncomfortably, and his eyes adopted a panicked expression – there was no mistaking this change in demeanor. Melodee was so intent on studying the new visitor and Howe's reaction to him that she nearly missed what her father was saying.

"Duncan is a member of the Grey Wardens, Pup. You do remember about the Wardens from your studies with Aldous?"

Her excitement rising, Melodee rattled off as many of the heroic facts concerning the Grey Wardens that she could remember. She finished, breathless with anticipation, by asking, "What brings you to Highever, Ser Duncan? Are you recruiting?"

"I am," he intoned in a deep, grave voice. "I have my eye on one or two of the knights, though I must say that your exhibition with Ser Gilmore earlier caught my interest. I expect that you would be able to hold your own against most of the Wardens. Some of our newer recruits, in particular, are rather… reckless. They could do with watching some of your finesse."

Melodee, flushing from the praise of the greatest warriors she was certain she had ever met, looked up as her father positioned himself in front of her. His usually cheerful voice was as serious as she had ever heard it when he spoke. "While I admit that my only daughter is a capable fighter, I would not willingly see her torn from my family just yet."

Melodee raised shocked eyes to her father. Didn't he know how honored she would be to join such an elite company of fighters? "But, Father –"

"Melodee, no." His uncharacteristic use of her full name stopped her protest short. "You have your duties here at the castle. Maker knows your mother is frantic enough with Fergus and me leaving. She'd have my hide if I even considered allowing you to leave, too."

"Teyrn Cousland, I have no intention of invoking the Right of Conscription. The Wardens are not yet desperate to the point of recruiting every promising fighter when other options are still available," Duncan interjected, leaving Bryce visibly more relaxed. Melodee, however, struggled to keep her sulking internal.

"Very well, Duncan. I thank you, and I trust that you will find an excellent candidate from my guard." Melodee's father then turned to her. "Pup? We have other matters to discuss, now. Please pass along my message to Fergus; I am guessing that he will be upstairs spending a few last moments with Oriana and Oren. You should also pack a few essentials – I ride at first light, and nothing would please me more than having your lovely face there to see me off."

Melodee nodded her agreement, bade farewell to both Howe and Duncan, and extracted a promise from the Warden to speak more after the troops had departed – she was desperate for more information about the Wardens and for news from other parts of Ferelden and beyond.

On her way to the family suites, Melodee was waylaid once more, this time by her mother. "Darling! Did you extract that bear you call a dog from the kitchens? Nan was beside herself earlier… And have you been sparring again?" Her mother's eyes, grey like her own, were flashing with irritation, her silvering hair swept back in an elaborate style at the nape of her neck.

Melodee sighed. Her father tolerated - even encouraged - her practice sessions, but her mother expected her to maintain the sweet, demure exterior that was expected of a young lady of her rank. Though Lady Eleanor Cousland was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield herself, she expected Melodee to act the part of a teyrn's daughter. Evidently, meeting her mother, Lady Landra, and Dairren – Landra's son – covered in sweat and grime did not classify as presentable.

"Lykos is napping in my room, Mother. Nan is back to work on the feast for tonight, and yes, I did just finish practicing with Ser Gilmore."

"Hello my lady. You are looking lovely as ever. And, I must ask, did you manage to trounce poor Gilmore as soundly as you did me last summer?" Dairren and she were on friendly terms, but Melodee felt that he was more than a little disinclined to pursue anything further, largely due to his injured pride. At Dairren's suggestion, they had headed out to the practice fields for a friendly bout, and most of his friends as well as his father had trailed after them to watch. Melodee had then proceeded to engage and disarm Dairren in a matter of minutes. Though he had been trained in the use of sword and shield, he was significantly slower than his lithe rival, and had not spent countless hours practicing with knights as Melodee had.

Melodee grinned at the memory of the older boy on his back in the dirt with no sword, conceding his defeat. "Actually, today found me on my back. I am sure that you can tell as much from my current appearance, though." She turned to her mother, then. "I just met the Grey Warden who is visiting; isn't it exciting to have one here in the castle? I can't wait to hear his stories!"

At this comment, Eleanor's expression became grave. "You aren't getting any fool notion in your head to run off and join the Wardens, are you? While I certainly appreciate your talents, darling, you still –"

"Have my duties to the castle in Father's absence." Melodee finished her mother's speech with a weary tone. "Yes, I know."

With a few last parting words to the group, Melodee continued upstairs, hoping that Fergus wouldn't keep her long so that she could enjoy a much needed bath.