The Rose of Orlais
"Stop, stop! That was completely wrong!" The sharp voice of Lady Amélie Rosier cracked across the marble chamber like a whip. The little girl sitting across from her trailed off in the middle of the song and shrank, cringing, into the hard chair as the Lady launched into yet another scathing tirade on the girl's flaws. Fighting back tears of frustration, the girl bore it until the lady tired of the "lesson". Lady Amélie waved off her young charge with a flick of her fingers, calling for an elven servant to bring her a cool drink.
The little girl walked dejectedly through the grand halls, her eyes sliding from the fine tapestries to the fine silks to the fine jewels that decorated the home. Her young face was moon-like as she fought the surge of loneliness that rose in her chest. Nothing is ever enough for her...
Nine Years Later
Lady Danielle de Val Moraine, Sponsored of Lady Amélie Rosier swept into the hall, hearing the rustle of the silks and catching the sparkle of the gems that adorned her dress in the corner of her eye. She felt her grand things gave her an added measure of confidence as she strode in among the nobles. She carried an eager smile along with the small bag she held in her hands. Dimly in the background she heard the herald call out her short list of titles as she swept into the ballroom. True to form, few of the Orlesian nobles glanced her way, but Danielle wasn't fooled. Every person in that room was scrutinizing her every move.
Danielle lifted her chin confidently and walked through the nest of brightly clothed vipers. She would not give any of them reason to spit their poison tonight. Her verdant green dress shimmered in the light of a thousand candles, from lanterns at every table, from gargantuan chandeliers hung from the ceilings so high that they seemed to disappear in the distance.
Danielle basked in the knowledge that she looked more a gem tonight than her shimmering attire. Her mahogany hair floated around her shoulders in loose curls, set with heat and worked on for hours by elven servants. Gems sparkled in her hair, a net of gold woven through the cascade of silky locks. Her porcelain skin highlighted the silvery blue eyes that blinked coyly from under lashes heavy with mascara and colored with paint to complement her dress. She hardly looked the part of a commoner playing at being nobility. She was the opposite of what they would expect.
Danielle floated through the room, mingling with the crowds of nobles. They all tried to subtly engage her attention, testing out this new scandal of the Court. Danielle was glad that her first Court appearance was not in Val Royeaux, where the sea of Lords and Ladies would have been endless. The Emperor's summer palace at Val Cheval was much easier to handle for a novice. Not that Lady Amélie would have cared, except to make sure that Danielle would not besmirch her family name.
A young Lord approached Danielle with a lady in tow. She clung to his arm like a leech, grasping at the prestige of her companion's name. Danielle raised a precisely shaped eyebrow at the behavior; her Lady would not have tolerated such disgrace.
"My Lady de Moraine," the Lord began suavely, his black hair gleaming as he inclined his head. Danielle curtsied, not a degree lower than protocol demanded, and returned a greeting. "This is your first appearance in Court, is it not?" Danielle inclined her head gravely as she kept her annoyance with the simpering lady from showing on her face. "I fancy that this is nothing like Val Moraine was for you. It must be overwhelming to come to an event of this magnitude after such… humble beginnings."
Danielle smiled, looking faintly predatory. "Magnitude, my Lord? I was under the impression that this was a minor event. If all balls are this unimpressive we shall have to begin inviting more commoners here." With another curtsy, Danielle moved away from the dumbstruck nobles and left in search of a dancing partner to twirl away with.
A footman opened the door to a fine carriage that waited in the grand courtyard of the Emperor's castle. The gilded carriage did nothing to disguise the obvious wealth and finery that belonged to the Rosiers. Danielle sighed at the pretentious vehicle as she allowed the footman to help her in. As though she needed it.
Despite the gaudy exterior, Danielle was more than glad to sink into the plush cushions inside. The nobles were trying, powerful as they were, and she nursed a slight headache from having to be courteous to all of them for hours on end. Danielle chuckled tiredly as she recalled the greasy nobleman and his shameless companion. Lady Amélie won't be pleased if she hears about that, she thought, shaking her head.
The carriage slowed suddenly. Danielle bit her lip, eyes sparking with frustration. All she wanted was her warm bed before she had to face her Lady in the morning. At this pace I won't get a wink of sleep tonight. She was about to stick her head out of the window when she heard a muted thud and then a gurgle. Danielle closed her eyes for a moment. Then she hiked up her dress, reached a hand into a hidden fold, and flung the door open hard enough to dent the ivory inlays.
Danielle needed no more than a fraction of a second to assess the situation. In front of her was a heavy-set man with a surprised look on his face. The footman driving the carriage was now on the ground surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Gathered around the carriage was a group of men in dark clothes to match the one in front of her. It all took her less than a second to grasp, and then she flew into motion. The man in front of her didn't have time to move as Danielle slashed a wickedly sharp blade across his throat. He stumbled to his knees, still looking surprised as he felt the blood pumping from his jugular. Danielle didn't pause for an instant as she almost danced through the men, her knife always finding the most vulnerable parts of their bodies. She smiled, feeling the joy of battle course through her veins, as she ducked one man's clumsy blow to spear him in the gut before plunging the bloody dagger into the first's eye. One man took fright and tried to run. Danielle raised an eyebrow and threw the dagger, unsurprised as it easily hamstrung him.
"So… whose are you this time?" she asked, coolly wiping her dagger on his shirt as he lay, quivering, in the dirt. He whimpered pathetically. "We're not going to answer?" she asked. Her voice was saccharine sweet as she gazed at him, her eyes like chips of steel in the moonlight. "I must tell you, I am very tired and frustrated tonight. Your best bet is to tell me what you know… otherwise, I have a feeling that your death won't be one of old age." His mouth remained closed. His throat did not.
Danielle walked back to the carriage, examining her blood-spattered dress in the moonlight. That's the life of a bard for you, she thought sourly as she began to rifle through the pockets of dead men.