Full Summary:
She had long ago accepted her lot in life: a street-rat, sucked into the shadowy and bloody underworld of the world, fighting tooth and nail for every scrap of food and breath of life. She was never meant to be a hero – she was a thief and a killer. There was blood on her hands and people out to kill her. So she ran – she ran and ran, until she was found by Keeper Deshanna. Taken in by the Dalish, she shed her past life and was born anew. Born as Lavellan.
When the Conclave explodes and the Breach is opened, Lavellan awakens with the key to world salvation attached to her hand and only vague memories that might implicate her as the culprit behind the attack. Suddenly, she is responsible for uniting the nations against the mysterious forces of the Breach and saving the world, while attempting to hide her true identity from prying eyes. But secrets have a way of coming to light.
Fem/Rogue/Sarcastic elf, Dalish origin (kinda)
Main Pairing: Lavellan/Solas (rivalmance, slow burn)
Genre: Adventure, Humor, Drama
Warnings: Dark humor, language, violence, and Sera's awful puns
Somewhere along the Orlesian coastline, 6 months prior to the Conclave
The autumn wind howled through the trees of the Jader hills, rustling the leaves so that they hissed like a swarm of angry insects. It carried with it the scent of brine and sea, skimming off of the Waking Sea, just north of the western Heartlands of Orlais. Here the soil was thin, sitting atop a layer of clay and sand, which meant that there was sparse foliage beneath the branches of the salt-bleached trunks of the coastal forest.
A cloaked man stood at the tip of a cliff, the rocky outcrop jutting out of the hills and overlooking the Waking Sea as it roiled and shuddered. Black clouds hovered above the grey and murky water, the sound of distant thunder heralded coming storm, the waves tossing and turning as if anxiously anticipating a tempest of grand proportions.
The gale snatched at the man's cloak, revealing oiled and worn leather armor, adorned in metal plates which were nicked and scarred from past fights. The same wind ripped away his hood revealing a middle-aged human male with tanned skin and angular features that were evidence of his handsome youth. He had curly raven hair, slicked back and pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and eyes that were grey like the stormy sea and just as violent, his gaze stern and cold. The haughty expression on his face, and the scars on his hands, told of a cruel and calculating man, the glint of a knife in the shadows, the promise of death in the night.
Footsteps sounded behind him, delicate yet determined.
His lips curled at the familiar footfalls.
"My little shadow." He drawled as he turned to face the elven woman that stood behind him. He recognized the long black braid that lashed in the wind like an angry lion whips its tail, and the spark of cold fury that made her forest green eyes alight with violence. Ah, some things never changed.
And yet, the rest of her was far from the girl he had once known. His eyes roamed her figure without lust, merely studying the changes she had endured in their time apart.
Most outstanding were the tattoos which now lined her face – although he had to admit, she wore them well. The arcing lines flowed over her aristocratic features as if to highlight her high cheekbones and tall nose, artistic in their simplicity. It surprised him, as he had always thought of the Dalish as uneducated, backwater peasants, amusing yet pitiful in their attempts to grasp onto a glory long lost. He couldn't help but chuckle at the Dalish armor that she wore, a shoddy replacement for the masterful armor she had once worn while under his command. She had even abandoned the swords that he had given her, exchanging them for the second-hand bow and arrows which were sheathed on her back.
Despite this, certain aesthetics gave away her foreign origins. Her skin was a golden tan, far more than any southern elf, even for the Dalish, who spent their whole lives in the outdoors. Everything about her was carefully measured and controlled, immediately distrusting of the world. Despite her youthful appearance, he knew that she was much older than she appeared. Her eyes held a world-weary gaze, far too jaded to be some naïve Dalish peasant.
His greatest creation. A gem hiding among the pebbles in the sand. Some things never changed.
She tensed at the sound of his chuckling, a snarl on her face.
"Have you had your fun playing pretend, feminina?" He asked with an expression of amused condescension that one might wear when humoring a particularly stubborn child. "Is being a Dalish everything that you thought it would be? Danced naked under the moonlight, perhaps? Offered human hearts up to their dead gods? Running through the trees barefoot?"
The elleth bared her teeth in a snarl. "What do you want?"
"Your actions have been tolerated thus far, but now it is time to return to your duties, feminina." He offered his hand and spoke in a low tone, as if soothing a wild animal. "Come."
She barked out a laugh, and then spat at his feet. "Never." She hissed. "Never again."
The man narrowed his eyes, his aura turning black as the winds picked up and howled around them, thunder rolling in the not-so-distant sky.
"Such disobedience..." He murmured in a dangerous tone. "I thought I taught you better than that. Foolish girl."
"The person I was before is dead." Her eyes narrowed as well, cautiously bending her arm behind her to grab the handle of her bow. "I am now Banal'ras of the Lavellan Clan. And never again will I submit."
At this the man burst into full-blown laughter, a deep and ominous bellow that seemed to echo the clap of thunder and flash of lighting behind him. He glared at the impudent elleth and sneered at her audacity.
"You are no Dalish!" He jeered at the elf, his gaze scorning the crude armor and weapons that she wore. "Just a little girl masquerading under yet another mask! But no matter where you go or who you pretend to be, you cannot change the past. So why bother?"
"Like you could possibly understand." She scorned in a cold voice, her temper tightly leashed despite the anger evident in her eyes. "You have no conscience."
"So you would wallow among these filthy barbarians?" He sneered. "Don't be foolish. Do you think they would still accept you if you told them about the things you've done? Or would they abandon you, out of fear and loathing?" Her lack of reply was an answer in itself. "Come back to where you belong, feminina."
She scowled and unsheathed her bow, nicking an arrow and falling into a defensive stance.
"I'd rather die than go back." She said in a low voice, grim determination on her face.
He regarded her with a smug look, not even flinching at the sight of her weapons, unfazed by her apparent willingness to fight. He did not even bother to draw his own weapons. His confident expression clearly unnerved the elleth, her eyes flickering with nervousness, glancing around them as if searching for some hidden trap. Ah, she knew him too well. He always had something up his sleeve, always a backup plan. It was what made him a very, very dangerous man.
"You seem to be expecting something." He drawled with an infuriating smirk. "You are well aware of how I play this game."
"There is something else…" She murmured, and despite the whistle of the tempest winds, she failed to hide the caution in her voice. "Why have you not drawn your blade?"
His smirk grew as he clasped his hands behind his back and began to walk towards her, stopping so that the tip of her arrow was an inch from his chest.
"As you might have guessed, I did not come here unprepared. I have, in fact, been spying on you for some time." He watched her face fill with dread, a sick pleasure curling in his stomach. "You seem to care about that little Dalish clan very much, feminina."
"Don't you dare touch them!" She snarled, pressing the arrow to his chest, the tip pricking the leather of his armor.
He did not flinch.
"Nor did I come alone." He continued, his smirk evolving into a cruel grin as she froze, face going pale.
Now he slowly pushed her bow and arrow down, and she allowed him to without resistance, arms falling to her sides as she removed the arrow and held the bow limply. Her eyes were glaring furiously at the ground, gritting her teeth as she battled with her emotions.
"It's touching, really." He spoke off-handedly as he began to circle her. "You are so familiar with them. Far more friendly than you ever were with your comrades back home."
"The clan is my home now." She protested, but her words were without bite.
He smiled condescendingly at her, again as if humoring an unruly child. "You are very close to their leader in particular. What do the Dalish call them? Oh yes, a 'keeper'. Quite a wizened mage, the Lady Deshanna, but she would not be very challenging compared to others I have fought."
She spun around to glare at him, clenching and unclenching her hands anxiously, but she did not raise her weapon. Good girl. She knew better than to challenge him.
"And the mage apprentice… hm, what was her name… Mirath?" He chuckled as she tensed even more so. "Such a lively girl. I'm sure the boys would just love to play with her. Make her scream a bit."
"You –"
"Not to mention the children." He continued, circling her like a wolf circles its prey. "It would be a shame for them to die so young, hm?"
Her shoulders hunched as she shook with anger, the green of her eyes like poison as they glared at him. He had her against the wall now. She always hated being outmaneuvered.
"Leave them out of this!" She hissed. "This doesn't concern them. They don't know –"
"Since when has that ever mattered?" He interrupted with a shrug. "Innocent people die all the time. Only the strong survive."
There was a long silence, stretching between them as she struggled with herself. No doubt the elf was attempting to think of a way to outsmart him. It was a fruitless endeavor, however. He had her trapped, and she knew it.
Finally, after a pregnant pause, she spoke.
"What would you have me do?" She finally spat out in defeat, eyes shadowed by her messy bangs.
He grinned. "Let's make a deal, hm?"
She glanced up at him warily.
"One last job." He held up a finger. "If you refuse or fail it, I will kill the clan and drag your sorry ass back to the city. But if you complete it, your precious Dalish will remain unharmed… and you will have your freedom."
She held her breath for a moment, staring at him in equal surprise and suspicion. "… I'm listening."
He smirked and pulled out a tightly wrapped scroll, handing it to her. She accepted cautiously, tugging the ribbon off and unrolling the parchment with quick efficiency. Her eyes skimmed across the words, gradually widening as they went lower and lower down the page.
"Y-you… you want me to…" She shook her head in disbelief.
"Kill the Divine." He hummed in dark satisfaction. "And you are free."
Author's Note: Whenever we play Dragon Age games, all the companions have some dramatic or dark back story. Leliana is a conflicted bard who dedicated her life to the Chantry in repentance. Alistair is the bastard son of the Ferelden king. Fenris was the ex-slave of a Tevinter magister. Anders swallowed a spirit and was consumed by its power.
But the main characters are always so clean. Untouched. It's like they popped up out of nowhere (ignoring the fact that we create the character).
But I like gritty characters – flawed with past sins, selfishness, and regrets. So I did.
I hope you all enjoy this story. It may start off a little slow, but it will speed up, I promise. I've also a prequel and sequel in mind, so this will be quite the project. Please leave reviews! Support really inspires my writing.