AN: Juliana Amell is the F! Amell in the game. This takes place two years before Maric's death, seven years before the beginning of Origins. Yet another little idea that has been bugging me, but I like this one better than the last one. Feels like the character is more fleshed out, even in this beginning chapter.
It had been a long time ago when they had taken her sister.
Her father, Bann Devon Amell, had been so shocked to know that his daughter was a mage that he was stricken with illness and nearly died. All he had was her after that, little Malkyn Amell. And oh, how he babied her, prettied her, and kept her all for his own.
It didn't matter that just outside the gates, the rebellion against the Usurper raged so that his own men were torn between two sides. It didn't matter than Malkyn would have to get married not long after it was all over. With all the death and loss outside of their home, the one child to have escaped the curse of magic would never know, nor truly grow on her own.
Everyday a maid would wake her, put bows in her long brown hair and treat her like she was higher class than she truly was. Even as a child, she knew that this was all too much and could not possibly find enjoyment in it if being pampered was to be her routine life. In time, Malkyn grew to hate it.
She was twenty when her father decided that she would marry Bann Ian, whose lands bordered their own. She had met him several times, and every time could only look at his rotting teeth behind those chapped lips of his. Maker be damned if her father truly thought she would bite her insecurities about the man down and marry him. The little lady inside of her was afraid, and disgusted…
So disgusted that in the dead of night, she stole her father's coin and blade and ran out into the wilderness without a second thought.
It had been fifteen years since that day. In that time, her sister had escaped the Circle, left a little babe in her hands, and ran out into the Brecilian Woods to raise a second child. Malkyn raised that little girl during her travels until it turned out she had magic of her own, and little Juliana Amell was taken away to the prison her mother had escaped only ten years ago years ago.
In fifteen years, Malkyn had learned the ways of the blade by fighting for survival. She had done it all by herself, and with every passing day lost touch with the daddy's girl that had been fostered in her soul. She had seen Orzammar and fought in the Proving in the name of King Endrin. She had crossed the Frostback mountains, had seen Val Royeaux, and sang the Chant of the Light with Chantry Members in the Grand Cathedral.
And what did she have to show for it? The breastplate the new Paragon, Branka, had made for her, a skin of Dwarven Ale given to her by none other than Oghren, and a sack of coin just good enough to get her room and board until the next Proving in a matter of days. After that, she'd probably start wandering again. It was the only thing good that the thirty-five year old, former Noblewoman could do with her life anymore.
That didn't bother her one bit, or at least it didn't usually. There had been all of this talk about children among a few of the Dwarven women that worked the only tavern in Orzammar that could house surfacers. Nose deep in a cup of ale, and she still felt this sort of sting in her stomach that reminded her that life had never kindled there and probably never would.
Malkyn was happy when they quit talking about children and started talking about 'distinguished guests' from the surface that had been invited by King Endrin to view the Proving. Since this news, a few other warriors from the surface had shown up, hoping to prove their mettle to whomever was going to come. It had damn well better be the King himself coming to the Proving, or Malkyn was going to get violent with the men that kept telling her, ' the little girl should go back home to her husband and her babies.'
When the arrival of the distinguished guests was announced, some of the warriors that came to fight were kicked out of their rooms to make way. Malkyn was glad she was not one of them, and she was ecstatic with this knowledge when three men and a woman came into the inn, all human and all well dressed.
The woman was, of course, unarmed. She had blond hair like the sun, but wore it in some crazy braids that just made Malkyn laugh to herself behind her drink. She seemed high strung and untouchable, and the untouchable part was worthy of respect.
A young man walked next to her, wearing what was clearly ceremonial armor and not meant for battle at all. He looked nervous and edgy, and he looked like the older man in the golden armor ahead of them, King Maric…. That must have meant that the boy was Cailan, the woman next to him Anora Mac Tir, his betrothed, and the man with black hair was Teryn Loghain.
Distinguished guests indeed.
Loghain felt the eyes of all of the warriors on him, and it only made him tense. Any one of them could be there to harm Maric or even Cailan, but none were armed. The one that caught his attention fastest was the woman with her feet on the table, three quarters of the way through a pint and chewing on a stick of jerky. She was out of place among all of those men, wearing leather leggings beneath a skirt she didn't really seem comfortable with, tied up in a plate corset as if it were the only thing standing between those men and her body.
She saw him looking at her with amber eyes, and she just nodded behind her glass. It seemed she knew who they were better than the others in the room. The smile on her face was one of thanks. What could she possibly be thanking them for? Getting other humans to try and participate in the Provings so that she wasn't afraid she'd step on her opponents?
When they reached their rooms, Anora found herself flanked by two guards, guards that would remain outside of her door at all times, unless they were following her around all of Orzammar. Each of them sweated uncomfortably in the Maker Forsaken heat from the forges and the lava. All at once, they both questioned how Loghain and Maric managed it.
"Who was that woman, Maric? In the breastplate." Loghain questioned as he followed his King into his room.
It was a sort of instinct after so many years of service to make sure he had made himself comfortable first, and in the meantime, it was always Maric who made small-talk. Loghain, however, couldn't simply let the matter of that out of place woman rest. He had to know more, if only so he could worry more about Maric's safety.
"You saw her too, then? I imagine she is the combatant that Endrin had written to me about, Malkyn Amell, Bann Devon's long lost girl. Looks a bit like him in the face, but I imagine she got her hair and her eyes from her mother, Maker rest that woman's soul."
"Why must we be the ones to come here and retrieve her then, if Endrin wishes her taken home? Is that why he asked for us?" Loghain said.
"He didn't ask us to take her home, he merely remarked about her skills. I suppose he does want us to take her away, draft her into the Fereldan army or something. I'm told that she hasn't had her feet grounded for fifteen years, since she ran from her father," Maric wiped his brow with a damp cloth. The heat was getting to him too.
"And aside from that," he continued, " all of us being here is a sign of faith in the Dwarven people and whatnot."
"Did you tell Bann Devon that his precious Malkyn had gotten herself involved in the Dwarven Provings?'
"No, Loghain, no I didn't. He would've made a scene, even after all of these years. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't dropped dead yet."
And if Baan Devon did happen to drop dead… well.. A lot of people in Ferelden would be happy to see the senile man kick the bucket. He hadn't been much help during the rebellion, and even though he maintained a decent reign over his people, he was not well-liked if merely for the fact that he was truly getting old. Too old to be a Bann, anyway.
He was well respected and liked in all the times before his wife's death. She passed on not long after Malkyn had ran from home, and when all of this stress did not kill the Bann, it took its toll on his behavior. He could still govern, but he was not in the least bit fit for court anymore.
"Do you intend to talk to her after the Proving, about coming home?" Loghain made his true point abundantly, and blatantly, clear.
" I don't know."
And that was the truth. Maric had no intentions of retrieving Bann Devon's daughter from her rag-tag life on the road. It was a well known fact that she had been on all sorts of little adventures since she had taken off with every single sovereign in the Bann's estate. If he had not sent for her yet himself, then surely he did not mean to ever see her again, and there was no reason for him, or anyone else, to worry about it.
The following morning, Malkyn worried now that the drink had worn off. She saw the King and his whole company enter the Chamber to the Proving with King Endrin and his family from her perch. With her back against the door to the combatant's chambers, she watched them exchange traditional, dull, and boring pleasantries. Loghain's little girl seemed to flourish in all of it, and no doubt existed in her mind that she would be a good Queen to Cailan.
What surprised her, however, was when she saw a face that she was familiar with join the crowd. Duncan, a Grey Warden, had come up to the King with a great smile on his face. They must have known each other she surmised, and she tried not to think on it too much. If that man approached her one more time about joining the Wardens she would give him a good punch to the face.
In all actuality, she was a bit confused about why he hadn't tried conscripting her yet…
"Time to get down into the chambers, little lady. No time to be staring at the nobility now," an old Dwarven voice called to her from just behind the door.
That was the voice of Gimerl, a Proving Veteran and the man responsible for her ever taking part at all. He came around the corner of the door she was leaning on, dragging her away by her arm. She grunted in protest, but it was no use. The man had the grip of a Stone Golem.
Gimerl's beard and hair were graying, and sometimes the young fighters would call him snow-beard behind his back. He knew it, but didn't seem to care. He would even taunt them after whipping them into shape in the arena by saying," Ol' Snow-beard just put you in your place, lads!" And maybe, just maybe, that's what Malkyn liked about him.
He released her into her small room, walking away with a triumphant smirk on his face. He gave her a nod just as the door closed, leaving her to prepare.
It took her no time to check the securities on her breastplate and toss away the skirt she wore over her leather leggings. It was her way of feeling a bit more feminine, the last thread that she tried to hold onto as a wandering woman. She shrugged a stray thought away, and began to secure her boots. They were a bit worse for the wear, but she didn't have the money to replace them.
Oh well, she thought, I guess I'll replace them after this batch of rounds are over.
Malkyn was the first to fight. The twin daggers felt warm in her hands, alight with the adrenaline of battle. She had never faced the opponent that looked upon her now, a stocky dwarf with a big head of black hair and a beard to rival Oghren's.
The announcer above began as he always did, " This is the Glory Proving, fought under the eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar to honor Branka, our new Paragon. First is Vok of the Warrior Caste. Some of you might remember when he faced his brother, and emerged victorious after a long, heated battle."
"Today, he fights the Champion of King Endrin, Favorite of Branka, and a veteran to the Glory Proving, Malkyn Amell of Amaranthine. You should remember her first battle against Dhag the Bloodletter, when she came back from a fierce blow to her back only to win it all."
She exchanged no words with the warrior, as it was no longer her way. He didn't seem to be the type to pre-bloodshed chatter either.
"The first warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"
Both of them came at the other holding no bars. The dwarf called Vok brought his great axe down on her without warning. She was barely able to get out of the way to swing the blade in her dominate hand at his right arm. His plate armor deflected the blow and left her at an utter loss for the moment as he swung his axe over his head.
She could not duck, only bounce herself backward. Her body threatened to topple over as her feet landed in an awkward position upon the grooved surface of the battlefield. This seemed to please Vok very much, and he came after her again with a strike that made the very air sing.
Malkyn allowed herself to fall back, blade of the axe catching the stone between her spread legs. She fought to get up quickly and tossed herself at the dwarf before he could recover his axe from its stony prison. The sheer force of her body coming against his armor knocked him over, and she brought her blades up to rectify this difficult battle.
Vok thrust his fist at her chest with a paralyzing strong blow, knocking the air clean out of her body. He took this opportunity to toss her away, and her daggers flew several feet into the air as she hit the ground and tried to regain her breath.
It was looking grim for her, and Anora couldn't understand why someone like her would want to live such a life in the first place. She had listened to the Ladies of the court talk about how she was before she ran away, how much promise she had. To the future Queen of Ferelden, all of that so called promise seemed like a lie. How could any woman who had grown up among nobility become the sort of woman she saw wriggling around on the floor of the Proving for breath?
It was a question that she had no answers to. Her father, on the other hand, saw the change of Malkyn Amell as simply a child's struggle to assert their freedom and live their own life. That is just what Bann Devon's child had done: carved out a meager traveler's life on the road and made a few friends along the way. He wondered if she did these things for some sort of cause, or simply because she could. The Grey Warden next to him, should he voice his thoughts, would be able to answer with certainty.
Malkyn Amell only did something because she could and wanted to. Duncan had learned that the hard way.
Malkyn almost seemed aware of the doubt hanging in the air around the human nobles that had came to watch the Proving. She could feel King Endrin rooting for her silently in his seat next to King Maric, and she heard Branka shouting for her to get her lazy ass off the ground.
The dwarves were her kind of people, and she never believed it more than when she was on that stone caught between a rock and a hard place. If you want honor and glory, you had to work for it. Maybe your birth had something to do with it, but even the highest noble could go casteless in time.
She rolled away when Vok came to strike her with his recovered axe. Still fighting for her breath, but aware of the situation enough that she knew trying to come at him with her daggers wasn't going to work. He closed the distance like a wild beast, roaring with such ferocity that Malkyn had a rare moment of genuine fear during the Proving. Loss felt close as her mind raced to find a proper way to take him down. Could she manage it with her bare hands if even her daggers were of no use?
Malkyn decided that the only way to bring him down was to be agile, avoid his attacks just as she had been. However, she needed to find a weak point. Anything. Maybe a crack in his armor to get her dagger into, should she retrieve one. A bare spot in his armor.
The process of jump-stepping out of the way of his attacks came until he realized that she was just pulling his leg and trying to think all the while. Vok glared something fierce at her past the metal of his helmet. He brought his axe around again, but this time, he swung it at her with the blades horizontal. The brunt of the impact knocked her off her feet and many feet across the ground. There was a cheer from those that did not support her.
She rolled over as Vok stepped toward her slowly.
"Come on now, Malkyn. Are you too woman to fight me proper? Get off your ass!"
She sneered at his comment, looking around on the ground, hopeful to find one of her blades not far away.
It turned out that one of her daggers was a short sprint away from her, and if she hustled, she might make it before Vok brought out the big guns again.
Malkyn was on her feet and off like a shot in what seemed like only a few very short seconds. Vok tried to burst into a run as well, but his steps were not as long, nor his strides quite as quick. She found the blade just in time to turn on him and give him a good hard stab in the abdomen.
"Gimme my money, Hespith!" Ah, Branka's always necessary cheer of winning a bet..
Vok dropped his axe, and submitted. Malkyn had won her first Proving match of the day. As it turned out, there would be a lot more proving and a lot less fighting in her future.