A/N: Alas, I have begun again! This will be canon, with the odd non-canon moment. The aim is to develop a deeper look at the people of Thedas, beloved and loathed alike.
Summary: A mage, known only as Warden Amell to many, has fallen into the unwanted attention of every power in Fereldan in her effort to quell the Blight. Will she continue the quest entrusted to her? Or will she allow the dark happenings behind closed door to take a hold of her?
General:
As much as I would hope to not turn this fic completely dark, I do believe some things will be unavoidable. That being said, this fic will mention and may describe slavery, rape, torture, substance abuse, molestation, intense punishment, abuse, bribery, and sex in detail. The rating is M, so this shouldn't be a surprise.
If there is a chapter with graphic sexual content or something that might trigger bad memories for someone (eg: rape scene), there will be a warning in the author's note and the section will be marked with asterisks. I strongly encourage all readers to read each and every author's note so that no misunderstandings will occur.
Had she not shamed the family enough, for the birth of her daughter, Revka Amell had surely dragged their name through the mud for this.
Screaming and clawing her way through the crowd, she could only hope she could reach the bastards in time. But, they had at least an hour head start. Had she only stayed home, and not gone for a stroll through Hightown, had she only been a better mother, and concealed her child better, this would not be happening to her.
Yet, she could not waste time on those thoughts now. Now, a time was ticking away, escaping her as she fought her way to her firstborn. She could not afford to lose her, not for her family's sake but for her own. She could never forgive herself.
Slamming into the wall of Templars, she thumped feeble fists against the cool metal, hoping to gain access to the western docks.
"Please, please, let me take her home! She's not a mage! She's just a little girl!"
Slow, monotonous tones reached her ears, reciting well known vows and apologies. The helmets showed no signs of life underneath, no guarantee that the men beneath the armour had a conscious to bear. The lack of humanity to these men drove any confidence away, leaving behind a growing depression.
"Let me see her. Let me see my daughter!"
"I'm sorry, but you are not allowed."
"Please, please, I beg of you ... one last time. Just one last time."
A templar to her left, whose heart constricted at the sight of the broken noble, stepped aside for her. Clutching shawls to her chest, Revka whispered her thanks and rained praise upon him, flitting past with ease.
Quieter this time, and faster, she pushed through the crowd with calculated ease, eyes scanning up and down the dock. There! A small group of children stood huddled against the wall, three armed Templars standing guard.
She moved closer, following another woman who too had thrown herself at the guards to see her son one last time. The guards seemed to relent, but only slightly.
At the sight of her daughter, bruised and beaten, Revka let slow sobs rack her body. But the girl did not allow the damage to best her. Her daughter held her head high, defiant, but the small shakes running through her let her know that in there was fear.
Her daughter spotted her, and with the Templars' permission, Revka swept the girl into her arms. Hugging her tight, Revka felt her daughter's heart pounding against her own. They cried in equal measure, the girl fisting the silk of Revka's dress, inhaling deeply to remember her mother. Murmurs of promises and love spilled from Revka, daring words of rescue and time – all she needed was time.
A bell, long and slow, rang out, and the shouts of the Templars began. Had it not been for a rough hand to pull her daughter away, Revka would have never left.
"No, mother, please, no!"
She wept openly for her daughter. Fierce, kicking and screaming as three men dragged her away. That's what her daughter truly was – fierce and proud. A true warrior. A small part of Revka hoped her daughter would be the one to restore honour to the Amell name.
Her voice, strong after all that had happened, rang out over the crowd, solely for her daughter to hear:
"Be fierce, Rikke, or the world will handle you fiercely!"
Revka was unsure if her words had reached her daughter, but the look back, was something she was sure she would never forget. The look Rikke sent back over her shoulder, the fear and pain, had turned Revka's veins cold. Rikke was yelling something, but all she could see was her mouth moving into words unheard. A rough tug from a Templar holding her made her stumble forward onto the boat. And she was gone. Lost.
She had failed her daughter. She had failed everything.
Frozen to the spot, Revka hugged her shawls closer. The boat didn't leave till sundown. And she waited. Watching the portholes, expecting to see her daughter's face once more. But all she saw was freckled faces of teary boys, and the flashes of girls' hair, once in pigtails but now fallen messes.
As the boat pulled out, sobs once again racked her body. There was nothing she could have done. That made her a failure in itself. She hadn't protected her daughter. And now ... Revka wasn't even sure where she was going. Fereldan was the destination, but she could never admit that she had payed much attention to the geography of the place. Why not here, in Kirkwall? Why not the Gallows? It was no place to raise a child, but it was close enough. Even Starkhaven would've sufficed. Anywhere in the Free Marches would have been fantastic.
But not Fereldan.
Eventually, sensation returned to Revka. She realised just how cold it was, and all she could think was how much colder her daughter would be. They weren't prepared for the cold, here in Kirkwall. Another failing on her behalf. She turned and left, careful footsteps, lest she trip over her own feet.
Trailing a slow path through the streets, her mind raced ahead. All Revka could think about was who had snitched?
It was surely not Leandra. No, her cousin knew, but it was something left unsaid amongst them, an unease because of the appeal of strapping young mages who went on glorious adventures, but the possibility of ruining their family.
But she had already achieved that in one fell swoop. Killed two birds with one stone, as the old saying went. She was unsure as to where Rikke's father had vanished to, but her heart tightened at the thought of it. That man was as flighty as they came, a charming Rivaini sailor; with one too many tattoos and an equal number of tricks up his sleeve. She had believed that somewhere, they had fallen for each other, but she knew her place, and he knew his ...
Her thoughts twisted to another avenue: maybe her uncle knew.
She visibly darkened as she stormed the steps of Hightown. It would fail to surprise her if the patriarch had a hand in the situation. Surely word of her public outcry would reach his ears, if not already had. But clenching her fists, Revka found that for the second time in her life, she did not care.
She found that deep in her, something roared with anguish. Her baby, her sweet darling, had been taken from her. This was not going to stand. She would not stand by idly this time. She did not want them ruling her life this time.
Throwing the door to the estate wide open, the force slamming it into the wall, she stormed in, the clicks of her shoes reverberating around the marble halls. Maids scurried back and forth, eyes turned downwards as Revka scowled.
"Where is he?"
One lone maid pointed towards the study, and like a thunderstorm, Revka rolled in, terrifying and beautiful. At the sight of her uncle, she stopped a way in of the door, closing it behind her. He was sitting by the fire, worn and frail-looking, a clear distinction from the man who had once run Hightown without the title of Viscount.
"How dare you!"
Aristide looked at his niece, his precious girl, with careful eyes. He could still see his grand-niece staring out from between the folds of Revka's gown. Those careful, wide eyes. Such wisdom for such a young age. But that smile that would grace her features at the sight of him ... it was no surprising the youngest Amell had the family wrapped around her finger.
"I did it to save us."
"To save us? To save us or yourself? She is my daughter! You just condemned her to a life in prison!"
"She will be with people like her."
Revka's hands ended up in the air at his statement. She could not believe it. Nothing could ever make up for this.
"Is that what you keep telling yourself? Is that the only thing going to keep you warm at night? 'She will be with people like her'? What kind of bullshit is this?"
"Language! ... I know you are upset, but this is for the best. For all of us."
Aristide looked up solemnly at his niece. His little Rikke would have been a beauty like her mother, and he would never be able to see it. But, as much as he knew this would rip them all apart, he could not let the family name be dragged through the mud.
"No. No, Aristide, you have no fucking control over me anymore. I have had it with this family! You can't even call this a family! Sending children away because they are magic? Once, that had been celebrated in our bloodline. Did Parlathan not try to unite lands?"
"The tales of Parlathan are conflicted. You would know that he had also been involved in quelling a slave uprising during the Imperium's rule."
"Which means little to you now, doesn't it? But you had always known there was magic in our blood."
"And that you had been with a Rivaini sailor."
Aristide allowed himself a smile at the sight of shock on Revka's face. "Come now, you really think I hadn't noticed the amount of time you had spent down at the port?"
Breathing heavily, Revka narrowed her eyes. "Oh, so it is his fault now is it? Not our own flesh and blood that is to blame?"
"If you had spent more time with your husband than that filthy Rivaini, I am certain nothing like this would have occurred. After all, if both parents have blood in their line, it is highly more likely for the child to be magic as well."
Revka blinked owlishly. "Is this the bullshit you have been feeding yourself for the past few years? I would assume you looked into the ancestors of Byron, then? Just to make sure?"
Aristide sent her a withering glance, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed her. "Begone, girl. Your tone tires me."
Opening her mouth in an attempt to retort, Revka thought better, instead snapping her jaw shut and curtseying mockingly. Turning on her heel, she left. Dark thoughts clouded her mind, and the light left her being. The air in the room seemed to leave with her as she carefully opened and shut the door to the Amell estate, the maids releasing breaths they hadn't realised they had been holding.
Eyes sweeping the courtyard, it was if Revka had finally taken notice of the corruption surrounding her estate. Had she been so blind before? Had she never taken notice of the people, or herself?
A flapping of wings drew her attention, and moving so she could see what was causing a great deal of noise, her lips twisted upwards into a smile. Above the Amell estate, perched on the very tip of the roof, sat an eagle, magnificent and very brave for coming near the town at all. But at the sight of the snake, trapped between the bird's beak and writhing in its dying state, Revka Amell found herself empowered.
"This will not stand, Aristide. Not now, not ever."