The sequel to my gameplay story, "from riches to rags to riches". This is based on the world of Dragon Age and on it's characters but is furtheron entirely fictional. This story is about Elissa and Alistair who together with Zevran travel to Orlais to secure their dealings with the Antivan Crows. It will also provide a little plot for why Alistair is not available at Vigil's Keep in Awakening when you picked him to remain a Warden.
This story is based on Bioware's game Dragon Age: Origins. I do not own any of these characters or storylines for they are created by Bioware. Not intended for sale or other than recreational purposes.
Feel free to comment, I love to hear what you think!
Val Royeaux appeared to be in flames. Warm colors dominated the scene; rich reds and oranges shaded by luscious shimmers of blue and purple. The narrow streets were lit by colorful paper lanterns, embracing the crowd in a pleasant glow. Above the noise of the merrymakers rose the high-pitched sound of a fiddler, guiding his troops in it's festive march.
The ladies had to lift the hems of their dresses to prevent themselves from tripping; the men boisterously offered them their help. All were herded towards the festivities in the market square, allowing their bodies to be pressed closely together in the narrow streets. The masked Orlesians, nobles and peasants alike, would end up ignoring their boundaries for that single night, allowing spirit drinks, games of chance and foreign hands to take control of them. It was the carnival, after all.
But the back allies of the Orlesian capitol weren't lit by the rosy shimmer of lantern lights. The moon colored the narrow streets a haunting gray, and despite the music and laughter in the distance, all was silent. Dark shadows allowed passers by to find the privacy they sought, and lovers and enemies alike succeeded in escaping the festivities of the grand carnival without ever being missed.
It was here where a young woman slid from shadow to shadow, wrapping the grey cloak carefully around her festive attire. She had spied on the King's Head across the alley for some time, and when two men finally took their leave she took her chance and slid through the screeching door.
The tavern was filled with smoke, the result of many visitors absentmindedly dragging their pipes. Besides the weather-beaten wench leaning across the far end of the bar, the company was solely male. The visitor was careful to avoid starting a conversation, or by the looks of the men - a fight, and kept her hood pulled far over her face when she waved the patron over with her slender hand.
The bearded man leaned over the counter, raising one eyebrow while he slowly rubbed the tankard in his hand with his dirty rag. Although ceasing to show any sign of hospitality, he eventually spoke.
"What's your poison."
His bone pipe hung limply from the corner of his mouth, and a trail of ashes dropped down in the container that inevitably would be used to serve her beverage. Nonetheless the young woman leaned forward towards the patron, unwilling to ignore the man's scorn on her behalf.
"An ale would do."
The patron leaned back and smacked his lips disapprovingly. He did decide to do her the courtesy of holding the tankard upside down before filling it from the cask at the other side of the bar.
When the woman exchanged a final look with the patron before throwing some coin on the counter, she saw a hand reaching for her drink from the corner of her eye. While the bystander noisily gulped down the ale, she remained quiet and played with a copper the patron forgot to collect. She rolled it over her knuckles and waited until the tankard was slammed back on the bar.
"Another one for your friend here?" The patron looked weary but eager to exploit the opportunity, or maybe wishful for the situation to escalate. The woman only gestured for a refill and flipped the coin towards the patron, who caught it with his free hand. She then turned around and spoke while she casually leaned against the counter.
"Thirsty, are you?"
For the first time the man next to her spoke. "Very, thank you. Who could pass on a sip from the King's Head's fine own brew."
The young woman met his eyes, but the elf couldn't stop grinning. "Not in the mood for drinks, I take it? Then let us discuss your next steps."
He inconspicuously reached into the collar of his tunic; the sealed envelope revealed a name in a rich handwriting before he slipped it under the woman's cloak.
"Will I be pretending to be a man? I'm afraid I'm not dressed to the occasion."
"It is Georgette my dear Warden, a common female name in Orlais, or so I have been told. Considering the national take on moral values, I expect bringing a guest will not be a problem."
While the elf spoke the young woman's head turned towards two men that were eyeing them from the corner of the tavern. Only her chin was visible under her overhanging mantle, and her lips pursed to a thin line.
"Do not be nervous Elissa," The elf spoke casually, "All will go according to plan. We will meet at the servant's entrance at the back of the manor, where I will have a carriage waiting."
"And what if I'm not in the mood for a party?" The snide in her remark surprised her, a faint reminder of her life as a noble maiden instead of one of her familiar manners, formed over her time as a Grey Warden. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Although her field of work sometimes required less knightly ways, there was no room for malice.
"Your tone of voice does not suit you." The elf spoke bitterly. He too lay his eyes on the two men in the corner, but continued to speak. "You're forgetting I went to great lengths to acquire this formal invitation for you."
Elissa shook her head, and the lips under her hood smiled apologetically. "You're right Zev, I'm sorry. This entire affair has made me nervous. The past has proved the Antivan Crows aren't a matter to be dealt with lightly, and"
Zevran interrupted her openhearted tirade by loudly slapping her bottom and pulling her close with his free arm. His unforeseen mischievous behavior startled Elissa, but before she could fend him off he leaned in as if to kiss her. Instead he whispered in her ear. "They are indeed. Watch your words in these regions, my Warden. We will meet as arranged. Now go."
He readjusted her hood, for a second softly trailing her cheek with his fingertips. Then he gave her a subtle nudge towards the door. Elissa quickly regained her senses; she was familiar with the art of coercion and seduction, but in situations like these she was evidently reminded that her elven friend was not her lesser in the game. She pulled her mantle even deeper over her face and quickly slipped out of the King's Head.