Elissa Cousland: The Bottom of the Bottle

Elissa took the opportunity to purchase wine when it presented itself. The merchant in Lothering had a bottle for a low price, and she ignored Alistair’s raised eyebrow and Leliana’s look of sympathy as she tucked the bottle away. She was bitter. And she was angry. And she was sad. Her family was dead. If a bottle of wine could dull the pain even a little, she would happily welcome the reprieve.

“Elissa!” Eleanor screamed impatiently. She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and shook her hard. “Listen to me, you wild girl! We are not going to go running after Howe! You are going to survive this – do you hear me?”

Held fast in her mother’s hard fingers, Elissa’s face contorted with grief and rage. She was ashamed of the tears that rose to blind her. It had suddenly hit her that none of them were going to escape the castle alive. They were outnumbered five to one.

“M-Mother, I won’t allow that bastard to get away with --!” Elissa began angrily and her bright blue eyes reflected the nearby flames, as if her soul were lit with fury from within.

The teryna shook Elissa again before she could protest and shouted through her teeth, “Do you hear me!” Her gray hair was coming lose of its bun.

Elissa swallowed hard and realized her mother was just as furious, but the teryna was keeping her wits about her. Elissa took a shuddering breath and tried to pull herself together. She blinked and her eyes relented. “Y-Yes. I hear you.”

Eleanor nodded. “Good girl. Now to the vault. Move!”

Mother and daughter hurtled down the avenue, fighting their way with identical scowls through the men that came barreling at them around every corner. The teryna was fierce with a bow. As Elissa’s sword sank with a sickening crunch in a man’s belly, another man bore down on her. He halted, face etched in horror, and she saw his eye sprout an arrow in a spurt of blood. The blood hit her face as he toppled over. She recovered quickly enough to wrench her sword free and finish off another man who swung at her.

“Well done, my dear,” Eleanor said, jogging up.

Any other day and Elissa would have smiled under her mother’s praise. All she’d ever wanted was to be a shield maiden like the teryna. But she wasn’t in the training yard. And the men lying on the ground were not made of straw. They were made of flesh. They bled and they screamed when she stabbed them. The fury was coursing hot through her veins, and she knew she wanted to kill again. It frightened her.

“The castle is lost! I’m getting out of here!” screamed the servant who Elissa had only just rescued from a mob of Howe’s men. He stood against the wall, panting and pale with fear, his blonde hair in his eyes.

Face contorted, Elissa marched at him, looking menacing in her blood-splattered armor and wild hair. He practically curled up in a fetal position to avoid her. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him from the wall. “Don’t be a coward! Stand and fight with your lady! This is our home, and we will defend it!” She snatched a sword up from a dead man and shoved it in the servant’s chest.

“Yes, m’lady!” he said dutifully and straightened up.

Other servants were creeping up, men with large frightened eyes who had never seen battle, let alone held a sword. Elissa turned to them, her eyes glittering, her russet hair wild. “To me! I am your lady and we die side by side, honorably! Let it not be said that the Couslands fell without one hell of a charge!”

The men seemed to take heart. They looked at Elissa with admiring eyes, nodded, drew their faces in hard expressions and picked up what weapons they could find. Other men – guards of the castle – came hurtling around a corner, screaming that Howe’s men were coming.

“Then we will stand and face them!” Elissa shouted. “To me!”

The men and servants fell in behind Elissa at once, their faces as hard and determined as their lady.

Elissa raised her sword and led the charge as she screamed, “FOR HIGHEVER!”

“FOR HIGHEVER!” echoed back, ringing off the walls with a tremendous force.  

Eleanor watched, eyes shining with tears of love and pride as her daughter led the small gaggle of men head-on into the charging enemy. “My girl,” she whispered, “you will never know how fiercely proud I am of you.” She sniffed as the tears trailed over her lip, then pulled her bow and ran after the others, screaming with them, “FOR HIGHEVER!”

“Elissa?” Morrigan said, snapping Elissa from the memory.

It was the end of the day. They had left Lothering and were in camp. With supper finished, Morrigan was taking the cauldron off the fire. Elissa blinked and glanced over at the witch, who was watching her with her bright vicious cat’s eyes.

“I would have thought better of you,” Morrigan said. “But it seems you are no different from your human brethren after all.” She nodded her head at Alistair, who scowled.

Swaying gently as the world went in and out of focus, Elissa’s lip curled. Morrigan. Always talking about “humans” as if she weren’t one. For all they knew, she wasn’t. She had ridiculed Alistair only hours before and of course would not understand what Elissa was going through.

Sitting around the fire with Leliana, Alistair, and Sten, Elissa looked at Morrigan and envied her. The witch did not understand pain, sadness, or loss. Her heart was numb and cold. That’s what Elissa wanted. She just wanted to shutdown.

It wasn’t her intention to do it literally, however. She opened her mouth to say something to Morrigan – perhaps to tell her to shut up – and suddenly reeled over. She caught a blurry glimpse of Sten shaking his head disapprovingly. Then darkness.

“Oh Maker,” Leliana moaned, jogging to Elissa’s side. She knelt beside the limp warrior, who was lying on her back like a ragdoll, her mass of brown curls covering one slanted blue eye. Elissa was still conscious. Her long lashes were fluttering and she muttered incoherently. Leliana looked at Alistair, who was watching with concern. “Help me lift her, Alistair. We’ll put her to bed.”

Alistair nodded uncertainly and Leliana knew why, but there was no time for his shyness. She took one end and Alistair took the other, and together, they carried Elissa inside her tent.

“I would have asked Morrigan,” Leliana said apologetically as they set Elissa on her bedroll, “but . . . the woman is so vile. She’d likely scratch my eyes out before helping me.”

“I dunno,” Alistair said, shrugging. “Morrigan would have done it for Elissa. I think she likes her.” He and Leliana knelt either side the muttering Cousland, and Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly when Leliana started unbuckling Elissa’s heavy chainmail armor. “I should go . . .”

“No, help me,” Leliana said at once. “We’re just going to remove the breastplate. If her heavy armor holds her down when she needs to get up and . . . regurgitate . . . she could choke.”

Alistair swallowed hard. He hesitated but helped Leliana unbuckle Elissa’s breastplate. The top half of the armor came away easily, revealing the white brassiere cloaking her breasts. Elissa’s naked collarbone flexed when she muttered and she turned her face toward Alistair. Her eyes were closed, and a curl fell across the long sweep of her lashes.

Leliana smiled to see Alistair’s discomfort. “Quite beautiful, isn’t she?” she said in an almost teasing voice.

Alistair averted his eyes when Elissa’s breasts heaved in a sigh. Her nipples were pressing through the brassiere, and her breasts were full and high -- and larger than he ever would have guessed.

“Eet’s alright, Alistair,” Leliana said, sounding very amused. “Eet is only natural to want her. A lovely woman like her? I imagine she has been wanted by many a man . . . and woman.” Leliana looked at Elissa with admiring blue eyes and touched gentle fingers to her dark curls. “She is in a lot of pain. Both of you are. She seemed to do so well hiding it . . . up until tonight.”

“I should get to bed,” Alistair said, keeping his eyes averted. “Morrigan has first watch, though we’d do just as well to have a desire demon guarding the camp.”

Leliana laughed at Alistair’s nervous eagerness to leave the tent. “But Elissa will need someone to watch her, at least for a time. Keep her from turning on her back and drowning in her vomit.”

Alistair made a face. “Ew.”

“Besides,” went on Leliana, “I have first watch, not Morrigan. If I sat here with Elissa, then you would have to trust the qunari to watch the camp. Or Morrigan. Take your pick.”

Alistair bit his lip. “Fine. I’ll . . .” He swallowed hard again. “. . . watch Elissa.”

Leliana smiled slowly. “I’m sure you will.”

Before Alistair could change his mind, she had left. Glancing around the tent, his eyes fell on Elissa’s mabari. The beast had entered while Alistair and Leliana were talking, and now he lay near the flap of the tent, watching Elissa as steadily as if he expected her to sit up at any moment.

“Your mistress drink often?” Alistair asked the dog and jerked his head at Elissa. He looked at her and his eyes softened. She was curled on her side, and in that moment, she was not the formidable woman with the ringing voice and commanding air. She was a small and frightened girl, lost and alone and suffering a grief he could not even begin to understand. She looked so frail to him, lying there. He wanted to gather her in his arms, hold her, help her, but he glanced at the dog and knew to do such a thing would risk his vital organs. Or possibly his manhood.

“Have you protected her virtue all her life?” Alistair went on. “What was it she called you? Hafter?”

The dog barked happily.

“Yeah. That was it. Hafter.” He looked at Elissa again, who seemed to be dreaming. “Does that mean she’s a virgin, I wonder. I wonder . . . so many things about her now.” He hesitated and pushed her curls behind her ear. “Maker’s breath but you’re beautiful.”

Elissa’s lashes fluttered open, and Alistair blushed to his hairline when she pulled him down on the bedroll with her and snuggled up to him without hesitating. Her arm tightened hard around his breastplate and she curled up to his side, even throwing one of her legs across him. He blushed harder when she rubbed her nose against his neck and kissed it. All the little hairs on his skin stood and the blood rushed below his waist.

“Rory,” she slurred happily in his ear. “My father won’t like that you snuck in here again . . . my brother will have your head with the morning tea and toast.”

Alistair smiled at the ceiling of the tent: who in the world was Rory? “I guess she’s not a virgin then,” he said to Hafter.

The dog tilted his head, watching what was happening with calm curiosity.

“Mmm . . .” Elissa moaned. Her pink lips parted, and she sank deeper into dreams.

Lying stiff and nervous beside her, Alistair stared at the ceiling, wondering how he could pry her arm and leg off him. He looked at her again with soft eyes and realized that he didn’t want to pry her off. She smelled sweet, and her skin was warm and soft, her breath was hot on his neck. He had never seen such a gorgeous creature, that mass of russet curls, those long lashes. He had seen beautiful women aplenty, of course. But it had more to do with her wild spirit . . . She knew how to take control; she was strong, fierce, confident, and yet so kind and gentle behind it all. He couldn’t stop thinking of her talking to the boy back in Lothering, how she’d offered to care for him and in the end had given him money for food. She was beautiful inside and out, but she was in pain as well, and in that moment, he decided to stop complaining and help her in anyway that he could.

Elissa frowned in her sleep. “Rory?”

Alistair awkwardly cleared his throat. “I’m here. Go to sleep, Elissa.”

Eyes closed, Elissa smiled. “No, not Rory. . . . Alistair?”

Alistair stiffened again, staring at the ceiling with large eyes. She slowly kissed his cheek, and the brush of her hot lips made him melt all over. Something happened below his waist again. He swallowed hard.

“Oh, Maker, don’t do that. . . .”

Elissa smiled . . . and dozed off.

In the morning, the Warden didn’t seem to remember a thing, and Alistair was exceedingly glad. They packed up camp and set out, and Elissa seemed to be her normal self again: hard-faced, commanding, determined and focused. She led the way toward Redcliffe, walking up the road at a hard march with her happy mabari looping beside her. Yes. She was back to her old self. But looking at her with longing, Alistair knew something in him was forever changed.

“How’d it go last night?” Leliana teased. She walked beside Alistair, some feet just behind Morrigan, who was walking behind Elissa and the dog. Sten brought up the rear, listening to Leliana with a frown.

Alistair looked away from Leliana’s teasing blue eyes and felt slightly nettled. “For your information, nothing happened whatsoever. She dozed off and I sat on vomit patrol. Luckily, she never puked once.”

Leliana giggled. “But she did something else, didn’t she?”

When Alistair said nothing, Leliana laughed again. But he was glad when she seemed to have satisfied her need to taunt him and fell silent.

They stopped to rest again in the green pastures of abandoned farmland. Leliana and Sten filled their skins from a nearby well. Morrigan sat apart from the others, trying to vanish a scar on her arm, while Elissa sat on a rock and pried off her boot. Her dog sat ever at her side, watching Alistair even as he watched them.

Alistair went to Leliana and Sten and filled his skin with water from the pail. He splashed his face but couldn’t stop glancing over at Elissa, who didn’t seem to notice his staring – or anything other than the rock stubbornly jammed in her boot.

“Just talk to her, Alistair,” Leliana said, amused. She took a long drink from her skin and licked her lips, watching Alistair with something like sympathy.

“I rather got the feeling you wanted to talk to her,” Alistair said, jerking his head at Elissa.

Leliana’s pink lips spread in a slow smile. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted, but I get the feeling Elissa would appreciate a courtship with a male.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Alistair said with a sigh, “I guess I’m male.”

Leliana laughed. “Don’t let Morrigan’s insults have an effect, Alistair. You are more than worthy of the Warden. Just get over there and be confident. A woman like Elissa probably appreciates a confident man.”

“Appreciates him or kicks him in the groin, one of those,” Alistair said weakly, but rubbed his hands, took a breath, and walked awkwardly toward Elissa. He was glad when Elissa lifted her head and smiled. Thank the Maker she had no memory of the night before.

“Hello, Alistair,” the Warden said, bowing her head over her boot again. She stuck her hand deeper inside and cursed. “Bah. There’s a rock jammed down in here tight --”

“Here, let me.” Alistair took her boot and reached in, then halted when he realized his hand – complete with gauntlet – was too big. He looked at Elissa apologetically.

The Warden laughed girlishly. “It’s alright. Here . . .” She took the boot and yanked.

Alistair wagged his brows and wriggled his fingers when the boot came free. “For a second there, thought I was going to lose my hand.”

“Don’t worry. I could have sewn it back on.”

“Whew, then.”

Elissa smiled and pulled her boot on. She cleared her throat, her curls tumbling around her as she leaned down to buckle. “Did you want to talk about Duncan?”

No. I wanted to talk about you making out with my neck last night. “That’s alright,” Alistair said at once. “You don’t have to do that. I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

Elissa frowned sympathetically. “I still mourn his loss, Alistair. He saved my life. And . . . I feel a little lost without him. I’m sure you do too.” She sighed and frowned off down the road, and Alistair knew she was feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders in that moment. The Blight was one thing a Grey Warden could not contend with alone, but . . . she was alone. She shouldn’t have to feel that way. Not with another Grey Warden standing there.

“I’m sorry for . . . the way I acted,” Alistair said. “Duncan warned me one of us could die in battle. I shouldn’t have lost it . . . not with the Blight and everything riding on us . . . I’m sorry, Elissa.”

Elissa looked at him and smiled sadly. “You aren’t the only one feeling lost, Alistair. No harm done.” Her smile widened slightly, but her lip trembled, and sadness echoed in her eyes: the smile was forced and did not spread to her gaze. He looked down at her and wondered if she didn’t, in fact, remember the night before. A small part of him hoped that she did.

Elissa stood abruptly. “I should round up the others. We’re losing daylight.” She marched past Alistair, but before she had gotten very far, he called after her, “Who was Rory?”

Elissa halted. Her back was stiff, and Alistair instantly regretted having asked. When she turned to face him, however, she was smiling. But it was such a pained smile. The smile on a mask that was crumbling.

“Ask me some other time,” Elissa finally answered, and her blue eyes danced over Alistair, bright with fondness. “Perhaps we’ll both be in our smallclothes then.”

Alistair smiled.

Elissa turned away with a toss of her russet mane, and some aching part of him knew . . . he was falling in love.