Chapter 5

Melodee shifted her weight edgily. Now that they had arrived at Ostagar, she was anxious to find her brother and tell him all that had transpired at their home. Although the pain was still raw, seeing her one remaining family member would provide much-needed catharsis. Her thoughts were tugged back to the present, though, as the king spoke.

"So, this strapping lad must be your new recruit, Duncan? If so, who is this that accompanies you both?" His voice was honeyed as he addressed her directly. "Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but the army is no place for one as lovely as you."

Melodee's eyes narrowed with irritation at his words, and her voice was clipped with ire as she responded before Duncan could clear the air. "Excuse me, your highness, but have you truly not heard what has happened in Highever?"

Her breast heaving, Melodee allowed Duncan to cut in and explain the rest. "Teyrn Cousland and his wife lay dead – slain by Arl Rendon Howe. As far as we know, the three of us are the only survivors of the massacre. If we had not arrived here, Howe would no doubt have told you whatever lie he saw fit."

The king appeared to be taken completely aback by the news. "Howe? Surely not – he has been a loyal friend to Loghain and me for years. Yet, here you stand, honor-bound to speak the truth." Shaking his head, he turned to Melodee once more, "So, dear lady, how did you manage to escape with these two? Did you happen to find a place to hide until they came along? In the kitchens, perhaps, or a storage room near the entrance?"

Ser Gilmore broke in here, clearly unable to hold in his frustration any longer. "King Cailan, this is none other than Lady Melodee Cousland that you are addressing in such a manner. My lady is also not one to ever dream of hiding – she and her mother fought their way through the entire castle before finding the teyrn. I beg you to show a modicum more respect to one who has been through as much as she!"

"Lady Cousland?" The king's light blue eyes were wide with shock as he appraised her once again, clearly oblivious to the less than appropriate way he had just been spoken to. "Why, the last time I saw you we were both much younger, your dress was covered in dirt, and you kicked me in the shin!"

Melodee flushed – she had all but erased that memory from her mind. Before she could respond, though, Duncan spoke once more. "Lady Cousland is also here as a recruit, your highness. She is a skilled fighter, and I have no doubt that she will perform her duties as a Grey Warden admirably."

"Two recruits?" The king's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "Luck is with us, indeed, Duncan! I trust that you will get all of your recruits ready for the great battle that lies before us."

"As soon as possible, your majesty," Duncan replied.

"Excellent!" The king clapped his hands together. "Lady Cousland, it was a pleasure to see you once again. Although I must go now, perhaps we could speak again later?"

"If time permits, perhaps. Before you leave, though, could I inquire where my brother, Fergus Cousland, might be found?" Melodee forced her voice to remain even.

"Ah, I fear that the one thing you ask of me I cannot help you with at present. Your brother left just this morning on a scouting expedition into the Korcari Wilds. He and the rest of his men are not expected back in time for the battle." The king's voice softened, then. "Truly, my lady, I am sorry for what has happened, and even sorrier that your brother is not here for you to grieve with. I swear to you that as soon as these darkspawn are dealt with, your family will be avenged."

Melodee nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice to remain even now that the chance of speaking with her brother was gone for the moment.

As the king and his entourage walked briskly away, Duncan, Gilmore, and Melodee followed at a slower pace. As the sun began to sink below the horizon, the mist in the valley below reflected the light, a writhing sea of airy gold. Melodee could feel Gilmore's eyes on her, but she did not wish to speak any more about Highever or her brother's absence until she'd had time to process this new turn of events.

As they reached the camp Duncan turned to the pair. "You both have the rest of the evening to do with as you please. As the battle is fast approaching, though, it is best that we proceed with the Joining ritual without delay. When you are ready, look for our newest recruit, Zevran Arainai." Here, Duncan paused, then with some amusement continued, "He should not be hard to find. Zevran is quite… outspoken. Once you have met with him, come to my tent to discuss plans for tomorrow." Turning to Melodee, he addressed her directly. "If you would like, your hound may stay with me while you and Ser Gilmore explore the camp. I daresay he is probably exhausted after our traveling these past weeks."

Melodee smiled faintly and nodded. She thanked Duncan, and she and Gilmore walked away. As soon as they were out of earshot, though, Gilmore turned to her and asked with a crooked smile, "Did I hear that right? Did you actually kick the king of Ferelden in the shin when you were younger?"

Flushing, Melodee nodded. Clearly unwilling to let her get away with a simple not of her head, Gilmore crossed his arms and waited for her to continue.

She cleared her throat. "Well, I was in Highever with my parents a few years before King Maric died. We were out shopping, and I was bored with how long it was taking Mother to choose fabric for a new dress. I saw two boys playing with sticks down a side street, and wandered off to see what they were doing. They were playing at sword-fighting, and it turns out that Cailan was one of the boys, though I didn't know that he was the heir to the throne back then. I asked if I could join in, and they laughed at me."

Gilmore chuckled. "I can guess how well that turned out, then."

Melodee laughed in agreement. "Yes, I was rather irritated. I pushed the other boy and took his stick from him. Cailan swiped my legs out from underneath me, and I landed in a pile of mud. They both stood there, pointing and laughing and calling me a 'little girl.' I stood up and whacked the first boy over the head with the stick I had taken from him, and kicked Cailan as hard as I could. Before we could actually fight anymore, though, we all heard my mother calling for me, and I had to leave."

Gilmore roared with laugher.

"As you can imagine, I never expected one of those boys to end up as our king!" Melodee laughed right along with her friend, and they began to walk through the bustling camp once again.

They soon discovered that the camp was well-organized, with many people willing to point them in the right direction. A group of soldiers rose from an evening prayer session in the center of the camp, and Ser Gilmore stepped aside to greet an old acquaintance of his – Ser Jory from Redcliffe. As the two of them spoke, Melodee drifted aside and watched a group of the Circle mages practicing their craft; she had always been fascinated by the mages who could harness magical powers to command fire or lightning to rain down upon enemies, to heal a wound almost instantly, and even to change forms! Like a red-hot poker, her grief returned as she remembered her old tutor, Aldous, and how he had spent hours trying to explain the mysteries of the Fade to Melodee when she was a child.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she struggled to even her breathing and calm the anger that surged through her at the thought of Rendon Howe.

That bastard will pay.

With her eyes closed, she felt a sense of calm begin to steal through her once more. Just as she was about to open her eyes and look around for her companion, she felt a sharp slap to her rear end. Spinning around, she reached for her daggers, only to find that they were missing. Anger and panic surged through her, and she looked up to see an unfamiliar face. A young man with short-cropped black hair stood in front of her, and she narrowed her eyes as she saw him idly flipping one of her daggers in his left hand, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"You know, sweetheart, you really shouldn't leave pretty knives like this just lying about." His voice had an accent that Melodee couldn't place, and she narrowed her eyes at the rogue.

She held her hands out without saying a word. He tossed her both of the daggers in quick succession, and whistled in mock admiration as she caught them both by the handles. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Gilmore had seen what had happened, as was now striding briskly over to where she stood, the other knight clanking along after him. Ignoring her friend's concerned look, she focused on the irritating figure who still stood in front of her, his arms crossed casually over his chest. She strode forward, and smiled sweetly.

"And who, might I ask, are you?"

"Name's Daveth." His eyes raked over her body, pausing very noticeably to ogle her heaving breast. "And who are you, doll?"

Still smiling she kicked out hard, her foot smacking into his abdomen to send him crashing to the ground. Before he could recover, she had her knee pressed into his chest and the tip of her dagger at his throat. "Well, Daveth, here's the thing: I haven't had the best week so far. If you push my patience any further with that clever tongue of yours, take my blades, or touch me again, I may just need to find some sort of outlet for my frustration." She pressed her dagger almost hard enough to draw blood to prove her point. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal," the man said.

Gilmore stepped forward as Melodee rose to her feet. "I'd offer to help, my lady, but it seems that you've got things well under control."

"Yes, I think I do," she replied, still glaring at Daveth, who appeared completely unruffled by the entire ordeal. She motioned for Gilmore to follow her, and they wove their way through the growing assembly of troops who were waiting for the evening meal to be served. She leaned in conspiratorially, grinning at him. "And, Rory? Since we are in the army now, do try to forget my title. Something tells me that our comrades and these darkspawn we will be facing will be less than impressed with my rank."

As they wandered through the ruins in search of the junior Grey Warden, Melodee learned from her friend that Ser Jory was one of the other two recruits. She wondered idly who the other could be. Finally, they walked up a small flight of crumbling stairs, and found themselves on the precipice of an amusing – if heated – exchange between an elf with a strong Antivan accent and a flustered Circle mage.

"Ah, but my dear, magical friend, I do believe that things would be so much easier if you would just go and meet with the charming Revered Mother," said the elf. His light blonde hair was impeccably styled, and his eyes twinkled out of a tanned and sculpted face, full of mischief.

"What her Reverence desires is of no concern to me!" retorted the mage. His dark blue robes swirled with each frustrated gesture he made.

"And what if what she desires is a little, say, romantic evening encounter with one so handsome as you?" The elf winked at the bewildered mage, his voice heavy with implication.

"I – You – !" Melodee smiled and had to turn around to hide her stifled laugher as the poor mage struggled to regain his composure.

"Ah, yes! I see that you are lost for words. I would be too were I in your place!" cried the elf, nodding his head sagely. "Off you go, now. It would be unwise to keep the lovely servant of your Maker waiting, would it not?"

With those words, the mage attempted to storm off with as much dignity as he could muster. Considering the circumstances, Melodee thought he had done quite admirably! She caught Gilmore's eye, and they both smiled with mirth once more as they approached the elf.

"Ah, and who have we here? You two must be the new recruits that our fearless and stoic leader told me of. He neglected to tell me, however, that one of you was a dark-haired temptress that would surely steal my poor heart away." The elf stepped forward gracefully and swept into a low bow.

"Yes. I am Melodee, and this is Ser Rory Gilmore. We are, as Duncan told you, the two recruits from Highever," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I take it that we are in the presence of the infamous Zevran?"

The elf appeared ecstatic, and his entire face lit up as he launched into speech once more. "Ah, so you have heard, then, of my irresistible charm, my sinfully handsome face, and my unparalleled prowess in the bedroom? Or perhaps it is simply my skill on the battlefield that has earned me notoriety?"

Ignoring her friend's incredulous cough, Melodee held back a smile and replied, "None of the above, I'm afraid. We were told to look for an outspoken man with a knack for attracting trouble."

Zevran adopted a deeply hurt expression. "My beauty! You wound me! Alas, but there will be time enough for you to learn of my aforementioned attributes, as we will be venturing into the Wilds together tomorrow. Terribly romantic, all the tromping around through swamp that we have to look forward to." Gilmore must have looked affronted, for Zevran gestured to him as he continued. "Oh, and if you are concerned about your beau getting jealous, there is no need. I am happy to hold his hand as well."

The knight turned a brilliant shade of red, and Melodee replied for both of them. "The Korcari Wilds, you say? What for?"

"Now that," winked Zevran, "would ruin my great air of mystery should I tell you. I do believe that I will allow Duncan the honor of informing you of the task to come."

Melodee nodded her agreement, and the three of them headed off in search of Duncan and the other recruits. On their way through the camp, Gilmore asked, "So Zevran –"

"Zev," he interrupted.

"Alright, Zev," Gilmore continued. "How exactly did you end up with the Grey Wardens?"

"Ah! That is quite the story, brave knight," Zevran began enthusiastically. "I am, contrary to popular belief, not of royal blood."

At this declaration, Melodee scoffed, but the elf clearly chose to ignore her and continued on. "I am, in fact, the son of an Antivan whore who was sold for a rather substantial price to the infamous Antivan Crows at a tender, young age. Perhaps you have heard of the Crows?"

He grinned broadly as Melodee and Gilmore looked at one another in shock. "Well, I quickly became one of the best assassins in the business, and the Crows decided to send me on a particularly profitable job: to kill one of the legendary Grey Wardens. Well, I was never one to turn down a challenge – especially not one that would pay so well as this one – and off I went to get rid of one such warden by the name of Duncan."

"You were sent to kill Duncan?" asked Gilmore, his voice as surprised as Melodee felt.

"I was, and indeed, am still surprised that I did not end up killed myself. All was going to plan, as my plans usually do. I had been following this Duncan fellow for about a week, and decided to make my move one evening while a particularly intoxicated soldier stood watch. I crept through the shadows up to Duncan's sleeping form –" Here Zevran began prowling forward in a stooped position to better portray his story. "As soon as I had reached him, I readied my poisoned dagger, and promptly found myself flat on my back with my own dagger an inch away from my tender neck! And, between you and me, taking the mighty and stealthy Zevran Arainai by surprise is quite the feat!"

Melodee could only nod in a bemused sort of way.

"Needless to say, I was in no position to bargain, but before I got a single word out, Duncan informed me that instead of killing me, he would see to it that I became a Grey Warden. Apparently they were in bad need of fighters with my… unique… set of skills. I have been here ever since, and have not looked back."

"That is quite the tale, providing it is all true," said Gilmore. Melodee suspected that he wasn't quite sure how he felt about the quirky Antivan, but like her, found it difficult to dislike him.

"So, you were trained as an assassin?" she asked. Her eyes had strayed to the beautiful pair of daggers he wore on his back. "What exactly did your training consist of?"

Zevran sighed dramatically. "The delicate trade of the assassin has, alas, become a lost art. You will find none better than I at detecting and setting traps, preparing potent poisons and bombs, and, of course, sneaking up and stabbing an unsuspecting foe in the back."

As he finished speaking, the trio arrived at Duncan's tent. The senior warden, Ser Jory, and none other than Daveth the rogue already stood assembled. Melodee groaned as the dark-haired man smiled and waved at her.

Of course. Of all the people in this entire camp, the other recruit had to be him.

"Good. You have arrived," said Duncan before turning to address Zevran. "I trust that you have finished upsetting the mages?"

"The poor fellow just needed a bit of encouragement is all, my good Ser Duncan," Zevran replied lightly.

Duncan gave the elf a disapproving glance before turning to address the four recruits. "You will be heading into the Korcari Wilds tomorrow morning, led by Zevran, with two tasks to complete."

Here, Ser Jory interrupted. "The Wilds? Nobody said anything about venturing into those damned woods!"

Duncan ignored both him and the smirks of Daveth and Zevran. "Your first task will be to retrieve one vial of darkspawn blood each." He continued by answering the question on each of the recruits' minds. "The blood is required for the Joining ritual which will take place directly after you return. The second task is to retrieve a cache of Grey Warden documents. Zevran has been told the rough whereabouts of this cache."

Zevran, whose gaze was still on the concerned Ser Jory, nudged the knight and said, "Fear not, good ser, for you will be accompanied by none other than the indomitable Zevran!"

Duncan again ignored the snickering of the other recruits, but turned to chastise the elf. "All the same, you must all exercise caution while completing this task. Darkspawn are nothing to be trifled with. I would suggest that you all get a good night's sleep, as you will need your energy tomorrow."

As the group dispersed, Melodee headed for her borrowed tent at the edge of the army camp, Lykos trotting happily at her heels. As she stooped to enter the small shelter, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Gilmore standing behind her. She cocked her head in an unspoken question.

"Melodee, I know that you're trying to be strong, now that we're here in the middle of an army and all," he began softly, "but you can talk to me if you need to. Don't let it eat away at you – I know from experience that unresolved issues can cause you to falter in battle. I don't want anything to happen to you tomorrow."

Standing, Melodee forced a smile. Her grief was all too real, but she knew she needed to focus on the present for now. "Thank you, and I promise that I will talk about things soon. For now, though, I think we need to be concerned with getting in and out of the Wilds alive."

After a pause, he nodded, still looking unsure of himself as he turned to leave.

"Hey," Melodee called softly after him. As he faced her once more, she placed a soft hand on his arm. "It'll be just like training together tomorrow – I've got your back if you've got mine?"

His smile was weak, but genuine. "Always."