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The Last of the Couslands	By : MistressofMagic Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware and EA own everything associated with the Dragon Age universe. I am making no money off of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 33
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Chapter 33
The Gauntlet
Bridget took a deep breath and slowly led her friends down another torch-lit hallway, her footsteps resounding off of the stone walls. Bridget's eyes widened as she led the others into the first room of the Gauntlet. The room was cold…from what, Bridget didn't know until four apparitions appeared on each side of the room. They stood there, gazing off into nothing, or they may have been staring at only something they could see, Bridget wasn't very sure. Each spirit had wisps of energy floating around them. None of the spirits appeared to be hostile, which was a good thing as Bridget felt more of her blood seep through the wound in her side. She drew her brows together as she slowly approached the spirit towards her right. As soon as she approached the spirit of the young woman, the ghostly apparition broke out in a riddle.
"The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man may not. Of what do I speak?" she asked.
Bridget bit her lip. Oh she had never been good at riddles her entire life, this time being no exception. She sighed and racked her brain over all of the possible answers. Leliana brightened.
"I believe I know the answer!" she whispered in her ear.
Bridget looked at her.
"What is it?" she asked, desperate for the answer.
Leliana looked at the spirit.
"A tune!" she exclaimed.
The apparition brightened.
"Yes. I, you see, was Andraste's closest friend in childhood, and we would spend our days singing and dancing to all different types of tunes. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her were filled to the brim with joy! They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then She sang no more of simple things."
A bright light flooded through the room and Bridget had to close her eyes. When she opened them, the apparition was gone. She turned around and addressed the spirit behind her, towards the left.
"Echoes of a realm filled with shadows, soft whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells at night, is swept away by dawning light. Of what do I speak?"
Bridget raised her eyebrows. She actually thought she might know the answer to this one!
"Dreams?" she replied softly.
The spirit of the older woman nodded sadly and replied in a solemn voice,
"A dream came upon me one fateful night as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told me of her life…of her betrayal…and of her death…"
She paused for a minute and looked at Bridget, and, although her eyes were transparent, Bridget could have sworn she saw a flicker of sadness fill them for a brief moment.
"I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save…"
The apparition faded out of sight, only small trails of her energy remained, and they too floated up towards the ceiling, that in the form of a broken heart, and vanished within the air.
Bridget returned to the right side of the room once again and approached an apparition of another woman who wore the robes of the magi. Her face was vivid against the dark stone backwash of the wall, her eyes narrowed slightly.
"A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye. The debt of blood is one that must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?" she asked in a harsh tone.
Zevran raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds like vengeance to me." He stated.
The spirit narrowed her eyes even more, if it was possible, and nodded.
"Yes. My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for his beloved Andraste. But I made him swear that she would die publicly, with her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength!" she hissed.
Bridget slowly took a step back as the spirit balled her fists in rage.
"I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be paid in blood." She said coldly before erupting in flames and vanishing before their eyes.
Bridget swallowed and turned back around to address the spirit on the other side of the room. Upon walking up to him, Alistair took a deep breath. Bridget looked at him.
"Someone you know?" she asked.
Alistair blinked and tore his eyes away from the elven apparition.
"I don't know if it's him or not…but I think that is Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the other elves from the Imperium." He stated.
Bridget turned back to the spirit who gave no recognition to anything Alistair had just said. Instead, he too began speaking a riddle.
"I'd neither a guest nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me. Of what do I speak?"
Bridget smiled sadly. She knew this one as well.
"You speak of home." She replied softly.
The elven spirit nodded, his eyes flickering with that of hope.
"It was my dream for the people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters, except for ourselves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium and all it's prejudices." He stated.
The elf's look of hope vanished and was replaced with sadness.
"But She was betrayed…and then so were we." He whispered.
He evaporated before them, wisps of his remains drifting upwards towards the ceiling. Bridget turned once more and walked up to the apparition towards the right side of the room. This apparition was a Brother of the Chantry as he was clothed in it's robes. He looked at Bridget as she stood in front of him and began his riddle.
"The bones of the world stretch towards the sky's embrace. Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?"
Alistair looked up from his feet.
"I believe he's talking about the mountains." He stated.
Bridget turned back to the spirit to see him nodding solemnly.
"Yes. It was I who carried Andraste's Ashes out of Tevinter and into the mountains to the east where she could forever gaze up into Her Maker's sky…no more fitting a tomb than this could we find." He whispered.
Bridget watched as the brother evaporated in a dim yellow orange hue, like that of the early morning rays of the sun. She then led the others back to the other side of the room where they addressed the spirit of who, Leliana told them was Maferath: Andraste's husband. He looked at Bridget and said,
"A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; From love she grows, till love lies slain. Of what do I speak?"
Zevran nudged Bridget in the arm.
"That's jealousy." He stated.
The spirit of Maferath nodded.
"Yes, jealousy is what drove me to my betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri…but beside Her, I was simply just a man. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They all loved her…as did the Maker."
The spirit was quiet for a moment and Bridget could have sworn she saw him swallow back a lump in his throat.
"I loved her too, but what man on Thedas could compare to a god?" he asked in an anguished whisper.
He too slowly disappeared from sight and the last remnants of his energy floated upwards until they too vanished.
Bridget turned once again to address the final spirit on the right side of the room. This spirit was also a brother of the Chantry, as he too wore their robes. He looked at Bridget as she approached her and thus began his riddle.
"No man has seen it, but all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword, comes from nothing but will fell the strongest of armies. Of what do I speak?" he asked in an aloof tone.
Bridget looked at him.
"You speak of hunger, spirit." She replied.
The brother nodded.
"Yes, for hunger was the weapon that was used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's harsh flame, scorching the land and drying out the crops. The crops failed and their armies could not march. Then the Maker opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, washing away their filth. I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done and knew the Maker smiled upon us!"
Another great burst of white light filled the cold, damp room and Cathaire vanished before their eyes. Bridget walked once more to the left side of the room to approach the last and final spirit that barred them access to the rest of the Gauntlet. This spirit was that of another mage, and Bridget guessed him to be the Hessarian that the other mage spirit mentioned earlier. Upon walking towards him, he began his riddle.
"She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?" he asked.
Bridget thought over the answer for a minute before replying,
"You speak of mercy." She stated.
The spirit nodded and explained.
"Yes. I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, could not stand to hear her shrieks and cries. Mercy bade me end Her life. I am the penitent sinner who shows others compassion in hopes that compassion will be shown to him."
With that the spirit of Hessarian disappeared and the large oak doors at the end of the hallway now stood open, allowing Bridget and the others access to the next trial. Zevran sighed.
"Whew, I'm so glad that's over with, those riddles really did make you think didn't they?" he asked.
Alistair and Leliana nodded.
"A little too much…oomph!" Alistair's sentence was cut short as he accidentally walked into Bridget.
They had followed her down the hallway and weren't really paying attention. None of them noticed that Bridget had stopped in her place, which is why Alistair bumped into her.
"Forgive me, love…Bridget?"
Alistair looked at her worriedly. Her eyes had grown wide and were filled with tears again. She held a look of shock on her face as she stared in front of her. Alistair quickly turned to see what she was looking at. His eyes landed on a man who held a kind face and wore the clothes of nobles. It wasn't until Alistair noticed his eyes that his brain suddenly made the realization. The man's eyes were a startling sapphire blue…just like Bridget's. Bridget swallowed. The Gauntlet was truly a terrifying place, after all. It not only tested your wit, but also your heart, and right now she felt hers crumble and break. She knew her father was gone, and nothing could bring him back…and the Gauntlet knew this as well, that is why they conjured this vision of him to test her, to see how she would react. Bridget took a moment to stare at him once more. His silver hair was the same, his kind eyes that were like a mirror's image of her own were filled with love as he stared back at her. Every wrinkle about his face was still there, nothing about Bryce Cousland had changed at all. He looked just the way Bridget remembered him. He walked up to Bridget and took her hands in his. At his touch, Bridget felt all the pain in her side vanish…she wondered for a moment if holding her father's hands had healed the wound in her side.
"My dearest, my sweet little girl…" he whispered.
Bridget felt her lip quiver as fresh tears rolled down her face.
"Father…" she whispered in reply.
Bryce smiled at her warmly and squeezed her hands in his.
"Darling, you know that I am gone from this world, gone to be with the Maker once more…your prayers and wishes cannot bring me back."
Bridget trembled with her sobs. Bryce lifted a hand to her cheek and wiped away one of her tears with his thumb.
"Pup, you cannot let my death have a hold on you anymore. You must move on. You must set your eyes on the dawn of the days to come, and you must not falter. You have such a long journey ahead of you, but I know that you can do it, my love."
Bridget drew her brows together as she placed her hand atop Bryce's.
"What if I can't do it?" she asked softly.
Bryce shook his head.
"You can, and you will, with the help of your friends." He said as he cast his eyes across the other faces in the room. His eyes rested on Alistair.
"You make my daughter happy, young man. In life, I honestly believed I was the only man capable of that. Keep her safe, Alistair Therin. Keep her strong."
Alistair gave a slight bow in compliance. Bryce returned his attention to Bridget and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Remember my daughter that you are a Cousland, and that I love you very much. I give this to you, my child. Use it well."
Bridget threw her arms around Bryce as he began to fade. She didn't want to let go, not ever.
"I love you, Papa." She whispered into his chest.
Bridget felt him return the hug.
"And I you, my dearest."
Bridget felt his grip loosen, each time she felt it loosen; she gripped tighter until she stood in the middle of the stone hallway, hugging herself. Bridget slowly opened her eyes to find Bryce gone, her own arms wrapped around herself in his place. She slowly dropped her arms and opened her hand to view the item that Bryce had given her. Bridget stared at the intricate ring resting in her palm, and realized that it was the one her father always wore. She slid it onto her ring finger on her right hand, the same hand he always wore it on. As if magic had shrunk it's size, the ring fit perfectly on her small finger. She wiped her eyes and smiled down at it, turning her palm over to catch it in the light. The ring itself was white gold and carried a large emerald. Engraved on the emerald was a large, fancy 'C', four Cousland. Bridget took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her father was right. There was no reason for tears to still shed. She had to put the tragedy that befell them behind her if she could ever hope to move forward. Bridget lifted her head and looked at the others. It was time to move on, and look towards the sky to see the dawn of every morning to come, just as her father had advised.
A/N: First I apologize for the double update of the same chapter! A small portion of this chapter was left off the first upload, I apologize! Anyways I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Another update is on the horizon! :)
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The Last of the Couslands