Maybe in another life
Larka Brosca couldn't help but think that maybe in another life, she'd be where Lady Syrane Aeducan was now, watching the provings – watching her.
Here she was instead, fighting as a fraud, a casteless on the Proving grounds fighting those higher than her, of warrior caste. She almost chortled with a bitter sense of humour, how the paragons would be tossing in their sleep tonight if they knew.
She felt ridiculous, hiding under a helmet, weighed down by so much armour and swinging a massive sword around – she was a rogue, she should've been in here with daggers blazing or bow raised in her duster leather.
Actually, she shouldn't be in here at all – her job was to win Beraht his bets as one of the crime lord's thugs. Had she had a choice in the matter, had she not had a drunk whore of a mother and her precious sister, she wouldn't have to be here or near the scum called Beraht, his disgusting relative Jarvia or the carta. She would've run and kept running to god knows where.
In the midst of the cheering as Larka won her recent fight, she could catch Lady Aeducan's voice with her sharp ears, "That one, what's-his-name, he's pretty good isn't he, Gorim? Damn, I wish I had kept pestering the Proving Master to let me fight – it would've been rather exciting."
"He is good," her second, the one named Gorim replied wearily, "And although I know you like fighting, my Lady, this proving was held in your honour as becoming Commander. Imagine what your father would say."
Syrane huffed, "I hate the castings sometime, I want to be a warrior so I can fight whenever I choose to, I don't need father to be over protective – I'm leading a strike team into the Deep Roads tomorrow."
"And you have to be well rested for it," Gorim reminded her.
Some people liked to compare Larka's sister to Lady Aeducan – not among the guards or anyone of importance of course, for fear they may be carted off to the dungeons. They both had red in their hair, although Rica's hair was completely red whilst Syrane's was bronze copper, Syrane was tanned whilst Rica was moonlight pale, but the princess had the amused spark in her eye that Rica always tried to hide when Larka would wave Beraht off with another loud-mouthed comment.
Larka got the feeling that the princess resembled her more though – they were both fighters, they hated how they were treated because of their castings. Lady Syrane Aeducan had shop keepers fainting whenever she showed interest in their wares, and Larka Brosca had guards and common folk spitting at her whenever she came near them.
They were both considered beauties – although, as Beraht reminded her constantly, nobody would take a tough, cocky, loud-mouthed, casteless thug-girl who'd pointedly tell a man to keep their hands off her and her sister otherwise he'd be in a world of pain within the next ten seconds.
She had heard of the troubles of matching Syrane up to a rich young noble too, not that she'd cared at the time given she was usual following another one of Beraht's 'jobs' and making another duster cry. She had heard that the princess was just down right stubborn and had rebellious streak, and there had been rumours that she was in love with her second, Gorim. Larka knew enough about nobles to know that the king wouldn't have cared if it were for love, he wouldn't let his little princess be married off to the warrior caste.
Still, despite all these similarities – Larka could only have bitter thoughts about this Lady Aeducan. She was noble, she could go off and fight in the legion of the dead if she really wanted to, she could die for her people, she could be somebody – and here was Larka, a casteless thug with absolutely nothing to lose, and they couldn't even trust herself to go and kill herself properly fighting darkspawn.
This Aeducan hated the casting system did she? It all sounded like empty words to Larka.
Surely deep down, this noble was just like the rest – enjoying the power they had over the others, enjoying the feeling of being 'better' just because of their caste and not because of their skill.
Larka Brosca would show them that she, a casteless, was better than the rest of the stinking, snivelling warrior caste who were just falling down at her feet one after the other.
Larka Brosca would show them that she'd be able to carve up every single darkspawn that got in her way.
--
Syrane Aeducan wondered if she'd have ever had the guts to stand as casteless champion to prove to the world that she was just as good as the rest of them, if not better.
The girl, no older than Syrane herself, with the casteless brand on her brown left cheek, cropped short light-blonde hair and stormy blue-grey eyes was staring up at the proving master in defiance. "My name is Larka Brosca, I am a casteless and I have bested the best of warrior caste," her voice rang out, her triumph managing to mask her fear. "This drunk," she waved at the man she'd been impersonating as, "Wouldn't have won his first battle, the idiot. I, a casteless, defeat all you've got to offer and this man of the warrior caste gets drunk and doesn't even turn up to his match, so can you really look me in the eye and tell me that he's a better person than I am."
Syrane gazed at her in awe, this girl knew what would happen to you if you ever did something like she had – a casteless, taking a man's armour, pretending to be him and fighting in the proving and then defiantly telling nobles and commoners that she was better than they are. This girl knew that she'd probably die.
Gorim grumbled beside her, "I'm guessing this lass was on one of Beraht's jobs, but something must've screwed up. She's got some courage telling him all that," he nodded towards the Proving Master who's face was now bubbling with rage. "Looks like his head's going to explode."
It was then that Syrane laughed, loud and clear – the rabble died down to hear her voice and she announced, "This girl, Larka Brosca wasn't it? I like her."
The Proving Master sputtered, "What? But your highness, the casteless has tainted the grounds with her filth."
Lady Aeducan gave him a withering look, it was amazing how she could say a thousand words with a single look whilst most dwarfs would be struggling to form a coherent sentence around the Proving Master.
The casteless looked surprised for a brief second before closing her face of, curtaining with stubbornness and she held her chin high, her arms crossed and replied, "Does such a scandal amuse you, Lady Aeducan?"
"Lady Aeducan oft likes the world to suddenly be tipped upside down," Gorim replied for her before she could open her mouth. He grinned, as in really grinned, down at the branded girl – finally, someone who would stand up for themselves and wouldn't be kissing the ground just because they were graced enough to see Syrane – something which the dwarven princess hated. He hadn't seen her laugh, truly laugh, all week – as the stress of her introduction to the houses came ever closer.
Each day someone would've come up to her and asked her, pleaded her to say just a simple word to aid their cause and Syrane had to step ever so carefully to risk offending them so that they'll try and take the throne from her father, from Trian, from her own house. It got too tiring too fast. He'd feared that he may have to hold her back the next time someone asked for a favour to stop her from beating them or having them arrested.
Then there was always the matter of the noble lords who had basically lined up out the door to get permission to court her, to get Syrane's approval. It was sickening. He saw the way the young commander's eyes would harden and her face twist in barely contained disgust whenever a lord would grab her hand and press his slobbering mouth to it. Lady Aeducan may be mischievous at times but she did have a kind soul but over the recent days, she'd increasingly turned to Gorim for help, saying in harsh tones, 'I don't remember addressing this man, Gorim.'
Looking down at this casteless, even though they didn't look anything alike, he saw so much of Lady Aeducan in that girl – the stubborn jaw when she wasn't going to back down, the folded arms, the fierce blazing eyes of a fighter – fighting their caste, fighting the darkspawn, fighting their enemies, fighting for freedom.
Maybe, in another life, the girl beside her could be Lady Larka Brosca and the casteless girl defeating all the warrior caste down in the proving could be Syrane Aeducan.
Maybe in another life.
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A/N There are extremes in all the origins but I felt it was really present in the Dwarf stories (I love playing as dwarfs) going from second in line for the throne down to the real pits where some 'nobody' casteless thug works for a crime lord for the sake of his/her sister. I do love both my Aeducan and my Brosca though – it's hard to tell which one I like more. Larka Brosca as got some real attitude though even with her benevolent streak hiding in there .
You also hear of the Aeducan in the Brosca origin story and also the other way around, it's pretty cool. So I was just comparing the lives of the two here.