I love doing these every time I attempt to write something. I do not own Dragon Age. It is the property of BioWare and EA (ugh). With Inquisition coming out soon, I wanted to catch up on my favorite Warden, so here we go!
Red Wedding
Domenic Tabris was angry. No, not angry. Anger was just a few steps above annoyance. Domenic was pissed. Everything he had, everything he was, was taken from him by the shemlen. The long, thin vertical scar running down his right eye burned as he looked down on the scurrying humans, running along the dust and cobble covered roads of Denerim. The burning intensified as he looked at the back of the Grey Warden riding ahead of him. Hate burned just beneath cold ebony eyes as he stared at the older man. Duncan, Hahren Valendrian had called him. The old human's dark beard had streaks of grey, giving him a distinguished look. The wrinkle lines weighed heavy on his face, reflecting a man carrying far too much responsibility for far too long. There was a general mirth in his eyes however, a mischievous twinkle. The contrast in characteristics confused the chestnut colored elf. Domenic's long black braids tapered into a ponytail that fell between his shoulder blades behind him as he rode the old grey mare the 'shem' had given him. He still wore the old, worn out studded leather armor he had 'acquired' in a noble's manor recently. The shemlen in the market eyed the elf suspiciously. Who did this knife-ears think he was, the King of Ferelden?
The cold look Domenic gave each in turn stopped their glares. Just beneath that frosty exterior lied a rage that could be felt by each and every human that looked the warrior elf in the eyes. They had no doubt he would slide off that horse and put a knife in between their ribs. As they rode in silence to the Gnawed Noble Tavern to meet with some of Duncan's associates, the elf's thoughts drifted back to just six hours ago…
Cold water crashed against Domenic's face as he jumped out of his bed, sputtering. A pale red-haired elf stood laughing, a dripping wooden bucket still in her hands. If the water had not woke him, the smell of stale ale on her breath would have. The scowl on the dark skinned elf's face faded at the sounds of his cousin's laughter until he too, could only shake his head and chuckle. She had warned him, after all. Shianni wiped a tear from her green eyes with a snort and moved a short red braid from in front of her face. "Now come on cousin," She chided him. "We can't keep Nesiara waiting or she might come to her senses and run back to Highever". She laughed before becoming serious. "And for the Maker's sake, help me find Soris! I don't know where he ran off too, but we can't have a double wedding without the second groom".
Domenic stood, shaking the dirty brown water from his braids. "Well, I could always marry them both". He offered with a wicked grin. Shianni threw the bucket at her taller cousin before bursting into laughter again. Domenic laughed dodging. He was not thrilled about the idea of an arranged marriage. The thought of a father selling his daughter to another family made him a little sick. However his father had told him all about how it was to breed diversity and unity with the other Alienages, and the thought of this mystery woman was intriguing. He was torn on the whole idea. He just wished he had a say in the matter. He was being forced to give up his freedom, but a new life, a new chance to be happy; it was something Domenic had completely given up on. The dark elf could only hope they would get along. For all he knew, he could very well be marrying someone like Elva! Approaching twenty years old, this wedding was a long time coming.
Despite his father Cyrion's 'wealth' among Alienage elves, Domenic's…temperament towards humans made him a difficult match. Cyrion did what he could to temper his son's rage towards the ones that controlled every aspect of their lives, but the humans did not make that easy. Human arrogance, and hate was prevalent in elven life, and many just accepted it as 'the way it is'. Domenic was not one of them. Rumors of the elf's cold rage reached the other Alienages, as random humans who visited the elven ghetto would disappear soon after. Despite these difficulties, Cyrion was determined to find his only son a suitable wife, and after years of trying, found a good family from Highever.
"Every father here is going to breathe a sigh of relief when you're finally married off". Shianni laughed, rousing Domenic from his thoughts. That part was true, his bad boy attitude and love for the Alienage and all her residents gave the young man quite a few admirers. "Uncle Cyrion did well for you, cousin. I met your bride earlier today. She's beautiful!"
"Alright, alright, I'll get ready" The elf smiled. Shanni was always ridiculously upbeat, but today the young woman seemed to be bouncing off the walls. It was impossible to even pretend to be angry around his cousin. If only she knew when to put down the bottle… "Just remember this the day your father finally pawns you off!"
The beautiful red-haired elf laughed as she left the room, allowing Domenic to change into this wedding attire. His braids were tied back again, flowing over the back of his dark purple and brown vest. He filled out the outfit quite well. Working in the rock quarry had given Domenic an almost human build. It was dangerous work. Dangerous, but profitable. Even though he and the other elves earned a fraction of what the humans did for twice as much work, it paid more coin than many elves would ever see. A well paying job was rare indeed for an elf of Ferelden, and it was one of the other factors that made him an acceptable match. He worked hard and did not complain. If anything, smashing rocks gave the angry youth something close to peace of mind.
He was tall for an elf, just taller than a human woman, with a thin build that rippled with muscle. He cursed, struggling with the many front buttons of his gold rimmed vest. It was some of the finer clothes you could find in the Alienage, with colors that screamed festive. That did not mean it was comfortable. Every step Domenic took made a new part of his body itch uncontrollably.
He was half ready to take it all off and get married in his small clothes when sounds of his father's laughter echoed from behind him. In the meantime, Domenic was about to dislocate his shoulder trying to scratch the small of his back.
"If you like it so much father, you can wear it today". Domenic complained.
"No, my son. I had my turn, now it's yours". Cyrion Tabris said, his grey eyes growing sad thinking of his own wedding day. The old elf's hair was now a solid grey after years of trying to keep his son on the right path. Cyrion had an almost ghostly complexion. The wrinkles showed heavily on his face, making him seem much, much older than he was. Adaia's death had been hard on him. He never once thought to stop to remarry. Instead, he devoted all his time to his son and making sure they could live comfortably, even in the large, crowded cesspool that was the Denerim Alienage. "I wish your mother could have been here…."
Domenic's scar itched at the mention of his mother, Adaia. Cyrion was always working as a servant at Bann Rodolf's manor. He was one of the few humans who actually paid his servants well, and treated them with something close to respect. During that time, Adaia had taught her son many different things. How to laugh at injustice. How to see the best in people. She also taught him how to fight. She taught him, Soris and Shianni the basics of swordsmanship. No one knew where she picked up these skills. Although it was illegal for an elf to have any kind of weapon, events from Adaia's past forced her to be sure that the children could defend themselves when the time was right. She was fast, nimble and always smiling. Training with heavy sticks, the three children loved playing these war games. Her son however, was a natural. Strong and fast, he had a warrior's instinct even at seven years old. By ten, Domenic had mastered a few of the forms his mother had taught him. It did not help him save her.
She was working in the kitchen of a small pub in Denerim. A foul smelling hole on the outskirts of town. An elven maid being out that late would cause most to worry, but Adaia, could handle herself. It was late, far too late for a little boy to be out, but Domenic missed his mother, and went to meet her after work. Four drunken humans were grabbing her backside as she tried to walk away. The instigator, a fat man with a patched beard and beer drenched clothes, took an elbow to the throat that dropped him instantly. With a pleasant smile still on her face, Adaia walked away. His friends were not happy with the turn of events and charged. Every other word out of their mouths being 'knife-ears' or 'whore' . With grace and skill she evaded the attacks, causing the drunkards to tumble into each other. Adaia gracefully spun to the side as a sloppy drunk drew his short sword and attempted to run her through. His blade slid smoothly into his friend's belly as the elf placed her leg behind his, backhanding the man in the throat and tripping him to the ground while pulling the blade from the falling dead man. Now armed, Adaia was in no danger from these men, but Domenic didn't see it like that.
The little boy ran into the fight, grabbing a lose stone from the ground. Adaia screamed his name, telling him to stay back. Drunk or not, humans were not stupid. Seeing an advantage, the fat man grabbed the little boy and pulled a knife. Adaia froze. He held the knife to the boy's face, dragging the blade across his right eye. The proud woman did not resist as his two friends tore her undergarments off and had their way with her. She didn't blink, she didn't cry, she didn't scream. Adaia would not give them that pleasure. Domenic tried to fight back, to save his mother. A handle blow to the head stopped his resistance.
He awoke to a heavy rain beating against him, his mother lying not too far away. The little boy crawled through the rain and the mud, reaching out to her. He grabbed her hand, hoping to feel that familiar squeeze. Instead her hands were ice, the blood that pooled around here already dark from the sword wound in her back. They had used her, killed her and left both their bodies in a gutter. They had disposed of his mother like she was a pair of old socks. A mixture of blood, tears and mud covered the boy as he numbly walked back to the Alienage. What little childhood the boy had left died in that gutter with his mother. As Valendrian treated his eye and took in Domenic's story, all that remained of that little boy was his mother's teachings and a deep dark hole that only human blood could fill.
"Me too, father". Domenic added softly. The pain his father felt, after all these years was still palpable.
"Nervous?" Cyrion asked, noting the distressed look in his son's eyes.
"I guess. Never met this girl before, and I'd rather choose the girl I'd marry than have one sold to me. Well, what should I be doing?" He said, trying to lighten the mood. It was a wedding after all, and his father had sacrificed so much for him. The least he could do was enjoy the day.
"Time to find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts the less chance you two have to run away". Cyrion commented. The thought had indeed crossed Domenic's mind.
"Hey, a small chance is still a chance". He smiled at his father.
The old elf laughed. "Smartass". His face grew serious again. "By the way, the things your mother taught you. The knives, swords, what have you, don't mention them to Nesiara".
Domenic groaned. He had been practicing swordsmanship since he was seven years old. It was kind of a big deal to keep from someone who was supposed to be his wife.
"Guess you didn't tell her family that before they decided to sell her off…" Domenic commented coldly.
"I don't want us to come off as troublemakers. Adaia made that mistake".
Domenic's eyes went flat again. He knew better than to talk of Domenic's mother like this. "The shems who killed her made a bigger one". His father could never understand the hidden meaning of that sentence. After Domenic had told Valendrian what had happened to his mother, the elder went to the city officials to report the murder. The kind old man made sure never to tell Cyrion that his wife was violated. The boy knew who the attackers were, they were regulars at that pigsty his mother used to work in. The guard did nothing. No investigation, no arrests, no questions. Just another dead elf. No one outside the Alienage cared. No one. Shianni and Soris did what they could for their cousin. They spent the next week with the boy while he healed, keeping him company, talking of better times. Their hopes, prayers and comforting words fell on deaf ears. The week passed and Domenic's eye had healed into what would become a scar that would run from above his eyebrow to his cheekbone. That night, wearing the darkest clothes he could find and all the lamp oil he could carry, Domenic left the Alienage and made his way to the bar. It was another rowdy night, the regulars there in force. Domenic peaked in the window and saw the fat bastard that had scarred him, and his friends, drinking the night away. Without a care in the world they drank and reveled, never giving Adaia a second thought. With that thought pounding in his mind, he barricaded the entrances, coated the rotting wood and stone shack in oil, and watched it burn to the ground. Fifteen men and women died that night. Domenic removed his hood, staring as the flames spread. The fat pig that raped his mother ran to the windows, attempting to break through. Domenic made sure the shem saw his face. Domenic watched as fear and recognition dawned on his features, and with cold, vindictive eyes watched as the flames took him. The city guards investigated THAT sure enough, but the boy left no evidence, no tracks for them to follow. If there was one thing all elves could do, it was hide. For the first time after his mother's death, Domenic had a peaceful night's sleep. They would not be the only shemlen lives the boy took in the years after. Cyrion and Valendrian were always suspicious of who set that fire, but couldn't bring themselves to think of a little boy doing something like that. He conveniently called it 'the will of the Maker' and went about his life.
"Our world is full of so many injustices" the old elf said sadly, taking silent solace in the fact that her attackers died in one of the most painful ways possible, Maker forgive him. "But go on, I still have some things to take care of and Soris is probably waiting for you by the gates!" Cyrion laughed. Domenic put his hand on his father's shoulder before moving past him towards the door.
It was a beautiful day in the Alienage. Domenic thought it was the perfect day for a wedding…preferably one that wasn't his. The sun was already high in the sky, beating down on the dusty unpaved roads of the elven ghetto. Dozens of homes in various forms of disarray lined the streets. Each building had random pieces of wood scattered over old, rotted sections. Only his and a few other homes could afford to use treated wood, but despite the rundown nature of the Alienage, her children thrived. Few went too hungry, and almost everyone helped one another in times of need. Rarely would one go more than a week without food. The dozens of houses and apartments stacked on top of one another may not have been the most appealing, but few remained uninhabitable. A two bedroom apartment often held up to seven people, but few complained. This was the only life those in the Alienage knew, and it could always be worse. In the center of the ghetto, past all the muck and mire, stood the Vhenadahl. It's an ancient tree of unknown breed, known as the 'tree of the people'. Meant to be a symbol of Arlanthan, it's little more than a landmark now. But it brings pride to the elves of Denerim, knowing that at least one part of their lost culture still thrives. The ancient tree bloomed with life, its leaves casting a much needed shadow, its branches reaching up above the highest buildings in the ghetto. To the left of the tree, a large stage was built by an old warehouse. It had taken weeks to build. Domenic couldn't help but think this was all unnecessary. If he had to get married, just do it and be done with it. Why the show? Looking at that large, ominous stage made him feel very much like the prized hog at a fair…
Walking past the makeshift stage, Domenic happened to overhear a conversation between two elves he had never seen before. He attempted to walk by, eavesdropping as he passed. The two were discussing something about 'breeding'. It took the young elf only a moment to realize they were talking about HIM. They stopped their only mildly insulting conversation to address the groom as he approached.
"Greetings, young one". The older woman smiled. She and her friend's hair were stark grey. The woman's pulled back into an easy ponytail, while the man's was short cropped, standing as if coated in mud. Both wore tradition, shabby Alienage clothing, though the woman's dress had a bit more color and flair than normal. "I am Dilwyn, and this is my husband, Gethon". The older man smiled and extended his hand. Domenic greeted them both warmly, even though they were strangers. They spoke briefly before Dilwyn dropped the news on him. They were friends of his mother before she moved to Denerim! Excitement rushed through him. His father never spoke of her life before coming to his Alienage! Her life, her friends, all those things that remained hidden from him, maybe they could answered.
"Please, can you tell me about her? My father never speaks of her life before here."
"Truly?" Dilwyn seemed surprised. "I can only imagine how hard it must have been for your father. He loved her very much".
"We all did". Gethon added, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Well we grew up in Redcliff together before she left and joined the Hard Line under Commander Raleigh. After that she stayed in Denerim". So that was where she learned how to fight. The old man never told Domenic that about his mother…what else did he leave out? Why did she leave the Hard Line?
"Met your father right here. Love at first sight". Dilwyn added. Dominic's eyes widened in as a revelation dawned on him.
"Wait, so my mother and father weren't an arranged marriage?"
Dilwyn closed her eyes and laughed. "Adaia never let anyone tell her what to do, let alone who to marry. No, they chose each other, right then."
"Bloody hypocrite…" the boy muttered. Even with this information, it was too late to get out of this wedding. No, his fate was sealed. He just hoped it would be a pleasant one.
"But enough about the past, this is about your future".
Gethon reached into his purse and pulled out a small bag. From the jingle alone Domenic could tell it was a substantial sum. "We've been doing some saving, and we want you to have this Domenic. To help start your new life". Hesitantly Domenic reached out and opened the purse to find silver, fifteen pieces of silver! More than most elves could save in a year's time. The dark skinned elf immediately pushed the bag back into Gethon's hands.
"Sir, I can't take this!" He whispered, afraid others might hear. Gethon refused to take hold and lifted his hands in the air before walking away smiling.
"Now, now. We insist. Use it well, young Tabris".
Defeated, Domenic quickly attached the purse to his belt. "I will. Thank you both. Truly". Somberly he swore to the two. He reached out to shake their hands, but Dilwyn and Gethon would have none of that. As if planned, both reached out and embraced to boy in a fierce hug.
"We know you will Domenic. We know you will. Maker bless you".
"You're staying for the wedding, right?"
Dilwyn laughed. "We wouldn't miss it, Domenic. We'll be right here after the ceremony".
"Great! I would love to talk to you both more, but I have to find my cousin before he decides to run!" Domenic laughed. "After the wedding?"
Dilwyn and Gethon both promised to stay, and bid the young elf goodbye to finish his affairs. He did not get far before spotting an old friend. Domenic couldn't help but feel nostalgic as he watched Nessa. The beautiful, short haired elf carried a small wooden box, full of trinkets. He smiled watching her move, and couldn't help but to be reminded of their dance at the last Wintersend festival. Nessa's red hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, one that revealed her delicate features. There was a look in her eyes though, a sadness and a sense of loss that Domenic couldn't put his finger on. A small bronze trinket slipped from one of the many cracks in the old crate and fell to the mud soundlessly. Using a handkerchief from his formal wear, Domenic cleaned off the piece. To his surprise it appeared to be a bronze symbol of Andraste. Quickly the boy ran up to Nessa, calling her name. At the sound of her name she turned, her eyes red with tears.
"You dropped this…" He said softly, putting the symbol of faith back in the box. "What's wrong?"
"Its nothing Domenic, thanks…" He offered to carry the box, an offer the girl politely refused.
"Seriously Nessa, you can tell me anything".
"It's just…..the human who owns our home decided to sell it for storage. We're homeless Domenic. So my father is packing up everything we own and we're moving south….to help at the Ostagar Ruins. I don't mind the work, but…" by this time the young girl had dropped the box and threw herself into Domenic's arms, weeping. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking the crying girl's hair. While his words and embrace were comforting, his eyes burned with anger.
The Ostagar Ruins were a shemlen military camp. Nothing but spoiled or bigoted shemlen as far as the eye could see. Shemlen who haven't seen a woman in months. There would be no telling what the men would do to a helpless elven girl. "No". The boy growled. "Absolutely not. You and your family are staying with us, or at the very least with Shianni. Your father wants to play with the shems then he can go right ahead, but he is NOT taking you or your mother down there".
"He would never allow it, he's too proud. Shianni and I have already tried…" She sobbed.
"I'll beat sense into him if I have too…" Domenic scowled. A thought flashed across his dark features. "How much would it cost to rent a place of your own, at least for a time?"
"I've been looking into it. Ten silvers would set us up with a place large enough to start the seamstress business my mother and I always wanted, but it's just not possible Domenic."
Well, I did promise Dilwyn and Gethon I'd use it well. The boy thought before taking out his purse. "Don't say anything's impossible". He grinned lightly as he took her hand and placed the bag in her palms. "Take this, and stay with us. Where you belong". He closed her hand around the purse, forcing her to take it.
"Domenic…" she whispered, in shock as she opened the bag. "It's…oh Maker, I can't believe it. You saved our family, probably our lives! Domenic I love you!" She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He returned the hug laughing lightly. "If only you had told me that a few months ago…" He sighed melodramatically. In truth he meant it.
"Oh stop," She let go, playfully slapping his arm. "Nesiara is a lucky woman". Domenic saw a hint of regret in her eyes too, and the elf mourned what could have been. "Now I just have to figure out how to explain this to my parents…."
"Just take care of yourself, Nessa". He noticed he was still holding one of her hands. Reluntantly he let go.
The girl picked up her now soaking wooden box, placed the purse safely on top, and raced off to give her parents the good news. But not before looking back at the dark elf one last time, who just smiled regretfully and waved goodbye.
"Always the hero, huh cousin?" A light voice came from behind him. Domenic only smirked.
"Always a snoop, huh Soris?" He answered as he turned around and greeted his lighter cousin with a handshake. The tall pale elf's short red hair was cropped high and styled, and he was dressed in his finest green and burgundy attire, much the same style as Domenic's own. "Nice tunic".
"Thanks, your damsel in distress spent a solid month making this". He looked over Domenic's shoulder as the young lady's arms flailed wildly speaking to her parents. "She's got a gift. So…you ready to celebrate the loss of our independence together?"
"Not in the least!" Domenic laughed.
"You should be! From what I heard your bride is a dream come true! Mine sounds more like a dying mouse". The elf groaned.
"Want a cage for a wedding gift?" The dark elf smiled teasingly.
Soris laughed. "Cousin, that's terrible. I ever get married again, your father is helping me find a bride and not Valendrian!"
"Hey, with an attitude like that, you're lucky the Hahren found you a mouse!" The two laughed. "Come on, let's get this over with". As the two walked, Domenic couldn't help but reflect on the day so far. The sun was shining, his bride was supposedly gorgeous , he helped Nessa out of a situation that would only end in horror, and he had an extra five silvers in his purse. Today seemed like it was going to be alright after all. He was shaken from his thoughts as three children ran up to him and Soris.
"Domenic, Domenic!" Amethyne ran up and grabbed his hands. "Can you tell us the story of Korin the Elven King again?!"
"You still making up those stories?" Soris whispered. As much as he disapproved of Domenic telling tales, seeing the kids so excited about elven heroes warmed his heart.
Domenic chose to ignore him and ruffled the little girl's platinum blonde hair. "Sorry guys, we gotta get ready for this wedding today. Aren't you supposed to be the flower girl, Amethyne?" With her mother working for Bann Loren and leaving the Alienage, Domenic always took the time to talk to the little girl. It's hard losing your mother, even if she's only a few days ride away. Iona came back to visit, but nowhere near often enough in Domenic's opinion. He knew it was a hard choice for Iona to leave her daughter in the Alienage while she worked for some stuffed shirt shemlen, the coin she was making would guarantee her daughter a better life. However, he just couldn't imagine leaving your child behind.
"I know, but we all really wanted to hear it!" She squealed. The other children were now jumping up and down, almost begging for another tale of how the great king slew all the humans and freed the elves. Some movement in the corner of his eye caught Domenic's attention as Soris gasped.
"Not right now. How about you kids run off to find Hahren Valendrian?" He smiled, however his eyes did not leave the scene going on behind the children. As the kids agreed and scurried off Domenic's clinched his fists, his eyes went flat and emotionless. Three humans, obviously drunk, had made their way to Shianni and some of the bridesmaids. The leader of the bunch was another red head wearing a flambountly bright orange tunic. His mustache and goatee were immaculate. His voice oozed condemnation and contempt. Everything about him made the elf's skin crawl. His eyes…they were the same eyes as the fat bastard Domenic met all those years ago. His lackeys were also dressed in finery, far too fancy to be normal dress. Something was very off here. Gruffly one of them grabbed Nola, the youngest of the bridesmaids. The young girl's pleas fell on deaf ears as she squirm free and bolted as fast as her frightened legs would carry her. The human's laugh was sickening as he told his friends to 'enjoy the hunt'.
"Take this elven wench here, so young and vulnerable…" The implications of his words oozed out of his mouth. What was meant to be a suave tone was nothing but foul.
"Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" Shianni spat, fear overpowering her intoxication. Her brother tried to get in between her and her attacker. A simple backhand knocked him on his back. Domenic should not have been surprised when no one said anything, when no one fought back. But he was. He always was. Soris saw his hand going for the small knife he kept on his belt. It wasn't a long blade, but Soris had once saw Domenic kill a rabbit ten yards away with it. He had dubbed it Domenic's 'Murder Knife'…it was aptly named.
"Domenic…" he tried to warn his cousin.
"This ends now". He stated with finality.
Soris sighed. "Fine, but let's TRY to be diplomatic about it". Domenic's grin caused him to flinch.
As if noticing a stray dog the leader of the bunch brought his gaze to the two elves. "What's this, the two grooms come to welcome me personally?" The human sneered.
The dark elf was not in the mood for games. "Leave. Now". His face was impassive, as stone as the human in front of him bore down upon him with all his contempt. His breath was rancorous, and Domenic swore it would bleed the colors out of his wedding tunic.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" He laughed mockingly.
"Ugly all day". The elf replied with absolutely straight face, not missing a beat. In a different situation Soris would have laughed. Instead he was shaking his hands rapidly mouthing 'no'. The human turned around just in time to catch a ceramic bottle to the temple. The bottle shattered, sending shards, wine and the human to the dead Alienage soil with a thud. His finery covered in liquor, mud and Maker knew what else as he landed without so much as a groan. From his rigid posture, it was obvious that the drunkard was out cold.
"Are you insane?!" A bulky human roared in shock. "This is Vaughan Kendells, son of the Arl of Denerim!" No one, especially not a knife-eared whore, would dare raise their hand against nobility, let alone an Arl!
"Then just imagine what I'm going to do to you". Domenic whispered darkly from behind. The larger human spun around, attempting to backhand the elf the same way Vaughan had done earlier. The elf smoothly ducked the backhand, placing his right leg behind the drunken human's own. His right hand lashed out in a palm thrust, catching the man directly beneath the chin. The blow stunned the drunkard as he tripped over Domenic's extended leg, falling flat on his back in mud and manure. In an instant Domenic was on him; his knee flush against his solar plexus and his knife held reverse gripped at the noble's throat.
"Braden?" The third cried out, but stopped immediately as Domenic's knife drew blood.
Fear and tears were the only thing in Braden's eyes as Domenic's bore into him. "Lord Braden, is it?" The elf asked, his tone and features still as ice. "Take that piss soaked shem and leave here, now. We won't say anything about today if you don't. If I see you again, I will kill you". The last part was stated with such finality that Braden just blinked his agreement. He and Jonaley were so used to Vaughan leading the way on their little hunts and things going smoothly. Never before had someone seriously fought back. And that black, heartless look in this knife-ear's eyes…he meant every word. Satisfied with Braden's agreement, Domenic roughly rose to his feet, driving his knee a little further into the noble's gut as he rose. Jonaley had already heaved his unconscious Arl over his shoulder.
"You got a lot of nerve, knife-ears!" Jonaley mustarded up as much bravado as possible in this situation. "This will go badly for you". Domenic didn't bother to reply as the three humans scurried off.
"Are you mad?!" Soris almost screamed. "You just pulled a knife on a noble!"
"It worked". The elf replied, sheathing the small knife. "If they weren't such cowards, that probably wouldn't have worked. Luckily shems have spines made of butter".
Shianni approached the two grooms, rubbing her face in disbelief. "I really messed up this time…" Domenic gave his cousin a hug.
"Nice swing". He grinned.
"This isn't funny, Dom!" She shook.
"It'll be alright" Soris cut in, also putting a hand on his shaking cousin. "He'll never tell anyone an elven woman bottled him".
"Took him down clean too. Such a waste of good wine though…" He shook his head melodramatically.
"I guess so…" the elven woman wasn't so sure. "I guess I'd better go get changed". Shianni turned to leave, a haunted look in her eyes. She and Domenic both looked at each other for a moment, and both of them knew the third noble was right. This would end badly for them.
"Is everyone alright?" His cousin was now speaking to two new elves that Domenic had never seen in the Alienage. One was a small woman, even for an elf. She had exceptionally large ears that pointed out en extreme angles. Her thin, wiry face made Domenic instantly think of a mouse. Her small, shy voice confirmed it.
"I think so, what was that all about?" She squeaked.
"Oh, the Arl's son just decided to start drinking a little early…"
"THAT was the Arl's son?" A beautiful blonde elf replied. Her voice rose in surprise and confusion. Denerim was supposed to be the capital of Ferelden, a place of diplomacy, nobility and dignity. How could a nobleman act like THAT?
Soris smiled lightly, doing everything he could to lighten the mood and take everyone's minds off of what had just happened. "Yes, but we shouldn't let that ruin the day. Domenic, this Valora, my betrothed" Domenic bowed his head politely to the young brunette by Soris' side.
"And you must be Nesiara," the dark elf finished. "Both Shianni and my father told me how beautiful you are. They were not exaggerating". He tried to be charming, but the incident earlier left him feeling a little hollow. He reached out to greet her, and Domenic noticed her flinch ever so slightly. She must have seen him with that shemlen. Domenic sighed internally. This was a bad start to a marriage…
"It is nice to finally see you with my own eyes…" She extended her hand and lightly held his. Domenic's grip was warm, almost caring. It was a stark contrast to the coldness she had seen just moments before. "Where…how did you do that?"
Valora joined the conversation. "I've never seen anything like that!"
"My mother taught me. Nowhere in Thedas is safe for us, not really. So she taught me how to defend myself". He sighed again, and lifted his eyes to meet Nesiara's. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry we live in a world where things like that have to happen. But I swear that no matter what, I will protect you for as long as you will have me". He replied honestly. This was to be his bride. She had to know who, and what was if they wanted any semblance of a normal life. The sincerity in Domenic's voice almost immediately washed away her fears. She looked at the long gash running down his right eye, then into his ebony eyes. She saw no lies, no deception, and no fear. All she saw was a man trying to do the best he could to protect those he cared about. She smiled lightly, feeling slightly better about this whole arranged marriage tradition.
"The match maker chose wisely indeed. I hope I am worthy of your affections".
The elf felt his cousin's back brush up against his, a normal nervous habit from his twitchy cousin. "Come on cousin" he said in hushed tones. "we should let them get ready…." He emphasized the last words. Domenic groaned, Soris was hinting at something…again.
"Yes, we should probably check up on Shianni and make sure everything is ready". Valora joined Nesiara. "Don't disappear on us". She said playfully.
"Or we'll hunt you down!" laughed Nesiara in a possessive cackle that made Domenic raise an eyebrow. Instantly he regretted what he had just said as his hair stood on end. After that line, never so badly had the elf wanted to run. The two left to Shianni's house as Domenic and Soris stood back to back.
"Don't look now, but we have another problem". Whispered Soris. Domenic almost shouted in frustration. What now!? He turned to look where Soris was staring and saw exactly what the elf meant. Another human, with skin just a few shades lighter than Domenic's. He stood almost regally, his arms folded behind his back, as if observing. Judging by the grey patches in his beard the man must have been in his fifties, but what stood out the most was the intricate armor he was wearing. Never before had Domenic like that. His hawk-like nose, hardened expression and weapons he carried made it evident this man was no stranger to fighting. He wouldn't be scared off like Vaughan and his cronies. "I don't know who he is or what he wants, but we need to move him along before someone" Soris looked directly at Domenic "does something stupid".
"This one's not leaving so fast. Look at him. He's calm, poised, and armed. He's looking for something". It wasn't like Domenic, but he was hesitant to fight this shem. This shem was different…dangerous.
"Well let's help him find whatever it is and get him out of here. The boys have been drinking and after that mess with Vaughan…" Soris left it hanging in the air, but Domenic knew what he meant. The two grooms made their way to the Vhenadahl were the human was standing stoically. Domenic couldn't help but feel resentment for the man standing so close to the last thing in the Alienage that reminded them of their heritage. Upon seeing their approach the old man crossed his arms in front of his chest and..bowed? Domenic and Soris both looked at each other, dumbfounded. That was…new.
"Good day" the human greeted. "I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding". Soris stuttered out a thank you. Hearing a human being so civil shocked the both of them. Domenic had come with murderous intent, but was honestly taken back by the shemlen's manners.
"Time to leave, shemlen". The dark elf scowled, coming back to his senses.
"And why would I do that?" The human asked. Soris attempted to speak but was cut off by his cousin.
"You are unwanted here, and I've had enough of your kind for one day". Domenic took a step closer. With those blades on his back he didn't want to give the human any time to reach them. The dark human noticed the elf move closer, but did not move.
"I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving until I find what I am looking for".
"Then find it quickly, and leave". The human smiled ever so slightly. As if aggravating Domenic was a game. The elf took another step closer, planning. To reach his blades, the human would have to lift his arms, revealing the weak point in his armor. A quick thrust to the armpit would seriously injure him, if not kill the human outright. With a stone cold expression Domenic stood his ground, waiting for that moment. The human's smile became a little larger, seeing the elf eye him up.
"Confronted by a heavily armored man, and still he keeps his composure, and plans his next move accordingly. A rare gift in these times, wouldn't you say Valendrian?" The human turned to the left as the Alienage Elder approached.
"I would say the world has far greater use of those who know how to stay their blades…" the elder looked at Domenic disapprovingly. Soris breathed a sigh of relief, his hand going to his chest. "Hello old friend" He smiled as he turned to the two young elves before him. "May I present Duncan, Head of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden".
While Soris' eyes bulged in surprise, Domenic crossed his arms with distain. "And? Why is this shem here, Hahren? We've had enough problems with them today".
"Yes, I heard about the disruption earlier. Although I don't condone how you and Shianni acted, I suppose it could have been much worse". The old elf nodded sadly. A thought came to the young scarred elf in front of him.
"Hahren, I need you to hold this for awhile". Domenic took off his rabbit knife and handed it to the elder. Valendrian looked at the blade questionly. "I almost slit a noble's throat earlier. It would be better if I'm not caught with that". Shock flashed across Valendrian's withered features.
"You play a dangerous game, Domenic". He replied before sheathing the small blade.
"Don't we all?"
"Old friend. But I fear the worst has happened. A Blight has begun. King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his armies". Duncan turned to the elder to relay the news.
"Darkspawn?" Soris asked, his voice shaking. "Those monsters from Mother Bohann's tales?"
"Foul creatures that warped the Golden City and came back to the mortal plane abominations. If not stopped here, they will swarm all across Ferelden like a plague". The Warden nodded gravely.
"Shemlen war. Shemlen problem". Domenic said before turning his back to walk away. His scar itched furiously. Something about this human rubbed him the wrong way, and for the life of him, Domenic could not figure out what it was. It was true though. The king's army would never allow an elf to hold a blade and fight alongside them. Maker forbid, he might do something worthwhile and show his people had value. And even if they did, why in all the hells would any elf want to?
"The Wardens of worthy of respect, no matter who wears their crest". The elder elf's voice carried a hint of steel in it. Apparently this Duncan was important to the old elf. But Domenic was too far away and too mad to care. Let the shemlen fight their own wars. No one help elves fight theirs.
"It's alright Valendrian. My concerns can wait, for now. But you have a ceremony to perform, and I have colleagues in town that may get into trouble without me. We shall speak again soon". The two shook hands as they parted, Soris again bowing stiffly to the imposing Grey Warden before him. He met up with his cousin, and the two of them took center stage as the rest of the Alienage gathered round. Nesiara and Valora stood waiting for them, looking radiant. Nesiara wore an elegant white gown, while Valora a bright and beautiful red and orange dress. On stage with them stood Shianni, beaming proudly, and yet another human. However this one was expected. Mother Bohann of the Chantry. One of the few that would come to preach to the elves of the Alienage. The elves of the Alienage were not even allowed to officiate their own weddings. They needed Chantry approval, documentation, and above all else, payments for the wedding license. Domenic was not a religious man by any means, and Mother Bohann was one of the few that didn't seem to have a problem coming to the Alienage to preach, or the attitude her sisters did. The fact that they were forced to have her there is what bothered the boy. Just another way the shemlen controlled their lives…
Valora almost shouted with a mixture of joy and relief as Soris and Domenic come to the stage. "You guys made it!" Even though she was joking when she told them not to run off, the thought had in fact crossed her mind. The red hair elf laughed nervously.
"No, I'm here. Fellow groom in tow". Nesiara looked on at the dark elf in a mixture of nerves, and excitement. He seemed to be a good man. Here's hoping he would be a better father to the three kids she had already determined they would have. Two boys and one girl, of course.
"I'm happy we can finally do this". She said softly as Domenic smiled, lightly taking her hand. It was a nice smile, it offset the seriousness of his eyes.
"So am I. Nervous?"
"Shaking" She smiled nervously.
"If it makes you feel any better, so am I". The elf replied honestly. "Whenever you feel faint, just give my hand a good squeeze. We'll get through this together". Nesiara's smile brightened as Dominic turned to his cousin. "Good luck, Soris".
"You too, cousin". He replied smiling. "Maybe it won't be so bad after all…" Valora just looked at her thick headed betrothed and shook her head.
"Smooth cousin. Very smooth" He and Nesiara both looked at each other.
"Er… I mean…" the young elf stumbled over his words. Fortunately, Hahren Valendrian started the ceremony in time to save him further embarrassment. He gave quick speech on how they were not always a free people, but thanks to Andraste, the Maker's bride, they had a chance to leave their own lives. He talked on how marriages between Alienages strengthens the bonds and hopes of all their people and how together, they could build a better future for all, human and elf alike. Domenic listened intently, and saw the true importance of this wedding. It wasn't just to be seen as a productive adult in their society, but to strengthen the bonds of friends and family. To celebrate life, and new beginnings. He looked at Nesiara and smiled lightly. She was not his first choice, but in time, maybe he could come to love her. Only time would tell as Mother Bohann began her benediction.
"In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I…." the Mother didn't finish as Shianni and the other bridesmaids gasped. The sound of heavy footsteps ended all conversation. The crowd turned to see Lord Vaughan Kendall of Denerim, flanked by his two 'friends' escorting a column of armed and armored guards directly to the stage.
"No…" Domenic whispered, his mouth running dry. He wouldn't, he couldn't!
Without even looking at the people he pushed out of his way, Vaughan stepped onto the wedding stage. "Sorry to interrupt, Mother" He started with a hint of sincerity. "but I'm having a little party, and I'm dreadfully short of female guests". That sickening laugh oozed from his mouth again. Can't get a woman of his own…what a shock. Domenic thought.
"Milord!" Mother Bohann protested. "This is a wedding!"
Vaughan laughed derisively, sneering. "If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business. But don't pretend this is a proper wedding…" His sneer became more pronounced, Mother Bohann backed away. "Now, we're here to have a good time, aren't we boys?" By this time Domenic's hand went to where his knife was normally kept, only to find the blade missing. Already he had forgotten that he handed the blade to Valendrian. He looked at the elder pleadingly, who shook his head slowly. Domenic's jaw tightened as he looked at the guards surrounding the stage. In formation, they drew their shields, forming a wall between the elves and the events on stage. His eyes widened in further disbelief and rage. They all bared shields with Denerim's heraldry! These were city guards, knights. Meant to protect the people! Braden and the third noble now known to be Lord Jonaley had found their courage with the help of two dozen guards. The three nobles were on the stage, and Vaughan went back and forth picking elven women as if he were shopping in the market. "Let's take those two" He pointed to the brides, who instinctively backed up a step. Domenic moved to stand in front of Nesiara, Soris doing the same. " The one in the tight dress…oh yes, and where is that bitch who bottled me?"
Jonaley laughed, the booze in his system making him rock back and forth as he gruffly grabbed Shianni by the arm, pulling her towards him before wrapping his arm around her waist. The pig groping the woman as he did so. "Right here, Lord Vaughan!"
"Let me go you stuffed shirt son of a…" The fiery red-haired elf fought for her freedom, elbowing the drunken noble in the throat. Jonaley lost his grip, holding is throat and gagging as Shianni ran.
Vaughan laughed mocking. "Oh I'm going to enjoy taming you". His right hand lashed out, catching Shianni across the face. The woman fell back, her head slamming into the hard wooden stage as she let out a pitiful groan.
Unarmed, surrounded by guards. Domenic knew his next move would probably be his last. If he didn't do something now, Vaughan was going to walk out of her with his best friend and cousin Shianni, along with his bride to be. He swore he would always protect her for as long as he would let him. The elf knew he would die. Vaughan was coming with him. Braden remembered the events from earlier vividly, and saw Domenic's hands clinch into fists. Quickly the noble pointed to the scarred elf. "That one's armed! Lil bastard tried to kill me earlier". Before he could move, mailed hands were all over him, pulling him off the stage. The breath rushed from his body as he landed on his back against the hard Alienage earth. He was greeted by a barrage of steel boots. He felt his bones rattle as the kicks bounced off his head and body. The elves of Denerim had had enough. Rocks, bottles and whatever else they could find flew towards the city guard. Ale, dirt and stone bounced off the steel wall separating them as Domenic was being trampled. He put his arms over his head to protect himself the best he could. Vaughan raised a hand, and abruptly the beating stopped.
"That's enough boys. We can avoid and further….unpleasantries." Vaughan waved his hand beckoningly, and the guard picked the bleeding elf off the ground. Somehow, he was still conscious. Bleeding from the heavy blows, he placed his feet firmly on the ground. Blood ran freely down his head, his lip split wide open.
"On your knees, knife-ears!" A guard called out. A spear end struck behind the elf's knees as Domenic cried out, dropping into the muck. Two guards holding his arms apart, Domenic looked up weakly at the man who would defile everything we held dear. The only thoughts going through the elf's mind were memories of his mother. Not again….not again. Shianni, Nesiara…I'm so sorry….
"Oh don't worry I'll return what's left for the honeymoon". Vaughan sneered.
With what little strength he had, Domenic lifted his head to see his people pushing against the shield wall, trying to break through to help, to save their women. He looked the little Arl in his eyes, that ice cold expression still on his face. "Vaughan. You're going to die screaming".
"I live in fear". The noble turned to leave, and once again a blow to the back of the head would cause Domenic to drift into darkness as he lost those he cared for.
A/N: Now I know why it takes some authors so long to write a single chapter with these novelizations…holy God! This is much darker than I'm used to writing, and the next chapter will be much the same, especially if you know the City Elf story, so get ready. Pairings unknown at this point...so if your reading you'll just have to wait and see. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I look forward to writing more of the elven Hero of Ferelden. See you next chapter!