She stood in the center of the ballroom. The Comte de Launcet really spared no expense for his birthday parties. Leandra felt the room spin as she took in the splendor. A chandelier of pure gold stretched in the ceiling above her, filling the room with bright light. Curiously, it's candles flickered with purple and pink flames. She scoffed. Orlesians and their color choices were always so amusing.
The doorways and banisters were draped with pink silk trimmed with gold. The ballroom's exterior door loomed high and was opened to the night sky. A cool breeze found its way in and tickled her face. She slowly became aware of the many bodies dancing around her. All young and proper girls with young and proper boys as their dance partners. Leandra smirked. Proper indeed, she thought. The hightown boys always had one thing on their mind at these parties. She confirmed this suspicion when she spied some of them trying to grip their dance partners by the rump.
An awkwardly tall and lanky boy shyly approached to ask her to dance. Leandra recognized him as an Antivan noble's son. His bronzed skin and exotic accent gave him away. She kindly refused and pushed past the crowd towards the dining area.
Away from the swirling dresses of noble born girls and the leering pimpled faces of noble boys, Leandra poured herself a drink. The liquid was a deep amber color and tasted of honey. She noticed a looking glass on wall behind the table. She drew closer to inspect herself.
For a moment, she felt vainly proud of her appearance. Her black hair was pulled into a bun with a few ringlets of hair raining down to her collarbone. A silver pin with a sapphire gem gleamed in her hair as it caught the light of the chandelier. At her pale throat, she wore a diamond heart pendant on a dainty silver chain. A gift from the Comte himself. Leandra's mother insisted she wear the gift to Guillaume de Launcet's eighteenth birthday. He had given the pendant to her as a betrothal present. Leandra glanced away to shudder. She took a moment to regain a calm demeanor, and peered back into the looking glass.
Her dress was dazzling. The blue silk was tailored to accentuate her every curve. It even dipped low enough to reveal the slightest amount of her tender breasts. The blue silk stopped at her knees and revealed a long, white petticoat. She frowned. The dress made her feel like an ice queen. It did not suite the autumn night of this party.
She turned to view the scene of the ballroom again. The dancer's were glamorous in their the finely tailored ballroom attire. The room was posh and brilliant. The music was steady and elegant. Leandra was beautiful. And she was bored to death.
"You look stunning tonight, Leandra."
She tensed when she heard the Comte behind her, cooing her name in his ridiculous Orlesian tongue.
She turned to curtsy and and forced a smile. "Ah, Guillaume. You look handsome as well. Happy birthday."
The Comte grabbed her hand and Leandra tried her best not to recoil as he kissed it. He smiled fondly when he noticed the pendant. Leandra tried to smile too as he gently stroked her neck along the chain. Leandra began to feel a little sad. There was nothing wrong with the Comte. He was a sweet boy with a kind heart. She just could never find herself attracted the the pompous way of life her fellow noble-borns lived. She could never love him.
From behind them, a high pitched voice screached with a thick Orlesian accent: "Guillaume! Happy Birthday! What a fabulous party! I have been waiting for a chance to wear my pink Orlesian silks!"
Leandra saw the Comte's eye twitch. She peered over his shoulder to see the speaker. It was Dulci. A high-strung and dramatic young woman. Her family had just moved into hightown from Orlais. It was no secret that she pined for the Comte's affection. Dulci glared back at Leandra with red-hot jealousy.
Guillaume reluctantly moved his hand from Leandra's skin to take Dulci's hand and politely bow. Dulci wore a ridiculously large, pink bow in her hair. It tied back her thick, blonde ringlets. Her dress was even more garish. The sleeves were puffy and the bodice displayed another huge, pink bow. The skirt of her dress billowed so far around her legs, like a sickening pink circus tent.
Dulci flounced her way over and stood in between Leandra and the Comte. It was an obvious attempt to drive them apart and bring all the Comte's attention to her. "Oh, Guillaume! How handsome you look! A full grown man now too! You must dance with me. We will be like stars on the dance floor. Every will stare a think how … starry we look!"
Dulci smiled ridiculously and Leandra laughed. When the Orlesian girl shot an angry glare her way, Leandra pretended to cough to cover her snickering. The Comte stroked his red hair uncomfortably. "Well, ah, you see Dulci … I was just about to ask Leandra to ..."
Leandra smiled and cut him off. "Oh don't be ridiculous. Dulci is right of course! Her pink dress with your orange suit would look so … starry! Go ahead and dance you two."
Still sneering, Dulci practically dragged the Comte to the center of the dancers. Guillaume looked forlorn.
Leandra sighed. She was happy to be left in peace again. She sipped at her honey mead and looked out at the night sky. The trees and elegant fountain were painted black against the sky's midnight blue canvas. She longed to be out there. The cool night excited her. Never knowing what might lurk around a corner or who may be watching. She smiled as she gazed through the open door.
She suddenly became aware that someone was watching her. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that there was a young man at the end of the table. Slowly turning her head, she met his gaze. Her heart was nearly struck still. The young man wore simple mage robes and held a pitcher to refill the drinks. The most brilliant blue eyes pierced into hers. His unruly, jet black hair brushed his forehead. Leandra felt her heart beat fast as the mage's lips pulled into a crooked smile. He was gorgeous.
Leandra smiled back.
The mage winked and began his approach to her slowly as he poured mead into the chalices on the table. Leandra turned to set her cup down. When she turned back, there he was, offering a cup of amber-colored liquor. He placed it gently in her hands as his deep voice resonated: "You don't appear to be enjoying this fine party the Comte has thrown. It is such a shame to see the most beautiful woman here is not turning heads on the ballroom floor. Perhaps you have good reason though, I hear Orlesians can smell so strongly of cheese."
The young Amell woman nearly choked on her drink as she laughed. Feeling brave, she peered at him through her thick eyelashes and said, "Well, in that case, perhaps you would join me for a dance?"
With an impish grin, the handsome mage squinted and scanned the room. He began to walk towards the grand staircase and beckoned Leandra to follow. She warily watched the guests. No one seemed to notice the mage and the noble sneaking by. All the dancers were fixated on their partners. Leandra caught and glimpse of Guillaume and Dulci. She stifled a giggle. Poor Guillaume was trying so hard to maintain a noble demeanor as he continued to trip over Dulci's monstrosity of a dress.
Leandra watched as the mage disappeared behind a grand statue of the Knight Commander. The statue stood in between the two large staircases. She quickly glanced around and saw no one watching her. With all the grace of a noble lady, she dipped low and hid behind the statue. She blushed slightly when the mage gently grabbed her arm and put a single finger to his lips.
They both knelt to peer at the crowd from their hiding place. The nerves of the dancers started to relax as the liquor released their inhibitions. Leandra looked at the mage and smiled at his mischievous expression. "You never told me your name." She whispered.
The mage look surprised. "Oh, it's Hawke. Malcolm Hawke," He said proudly. "And you must be Leandra Amell."
Now it was her turn to be surprised. "How did you know that?"
He smiled. "You have the Amell look about you. The circle sends me to serve at these parties so often that I've really gotten to know you noble families well."
Leandra gestured to the chandelier's pink and purple flames. "Is that your work?"
Malcolm sneered. "Yes. A complete and utter waste of my talents. Magic is to serve man, not to rule him. And serve them I do," He said as he pointed to the drink table.
The mage must have noticed the concerned look on Leandra's face, because he quickly gave her a reassuring smile. "Say, this party is rather dull. How would like to have a little more excitement added to your night?"
Before Leandra could respond, Malcom furrowed his brow in concentration and lifted his hands. An aura of magic began to crackle around them, and the lights of the chandelier began to grow brighter. Some of the dancing crowd took notice and began to point upwards. Leandra stared in awe as the flames began to engulf the chandelier. A panic was just about to erupt among the guests when suddenly the fire blew out. A sigh of relief ran though the crowd right as Malcolm's lips turned into a cheeky smirk. And then the chaos happened.
The guests screamed as the chandelier began to spew fireworks all around the room. The sqeauling little missiles dive bombed at the guests heels like tiny angry birds. Everyone ran around in panic trying to find an exit. Leandra gawked in disbelief as Malcolm guffawed heartily.
A few guests began to run in the direction of the statue. Malcolm deftly put an arm around Leandra's waist and pulled her down a small wooden staircase. Leandra gazed up as Malcolm put a panel back in place. "There was a hidden trap door there all this time?" Leandra asked with a grin.
The mage grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the passageway. "Yeah, I thought it was fairly noticeable!" He said grinning ear to ear, "I guess you were just so enraptured with my good looks to notice!"
Leandra gasped and tried to protest his bold comment, but was cut-off when Malcolm scooped her up in his arms to jog down the passage. She flung her arms around his neck and hid her face in his chest as he carried her. The underground passage was dark and spooky and she could hear the scuttling of rodents trying avoid the running mage. The shrieks of the surprised party guests grew quieter. She glanced up to look in Malcolm's eyes. "Where are we going?"
Malcolm breathed hard as his pace began to slow. He stopped his jog and gently placed Leandra back on her feet. "Oh, you'll see," he said with a wink.
He ascended up a few steps on a flight of stairs before reaching out his hand and offering it to Leandra. She smiled shyly as she placed her hand in his. They ascended together in the dark. As the neared the the top, Malcolm let go of her hand and fumbled with a door latch. A click echoed through the passage, and Malcolm pushed the little trapdoor open. He took Leandra's hand in his, and pulled her into the cool air under the night sky.
They found themselves in the very back of the Comte's courtyard. The trapdoor had opened to a small shrine of Andraste. Malcolm bowed his head in respect to the statue of the Maker's bride and led Leandra to the serene fountain. A thick flow of water fell from the top and made a calming bubbling noise.
Leandra dipped her fingers into the water and watched the ripples form at her finger tips. Malcolm sat on the edge and watched her. She smiled at him. "Thank you. I was longing to be out here and away from all … that." She said as she gestured to the mansion. The chandelier appeared to be back to normal but the guests were no where to be found.
Malcolm placed his hands around her waist and pulled Leandra to sit on the edge of the fountain next to him. "Ah, well, I am always willing to help a damsel in distress." He said with his impish grin.
"You could have fooled me," Said Leandra and she flicked water at him, "I was under the impression that you were more interested in causing distress!"
The mage feigned a look of shock and they both laughed.
A cold breeze chilled Leandra's skin though her thin silk dress. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Malcolm quickly unbuttoned his thick outer robes and draped it around the two of them. His arm went around her back as he held her protectively from the wind. She was happy to accept his warmth and leaned against his body.
She could hear his voice resonate though his chest as he spoke: "By the way, I think you dropped something on the way down those stairs." He rustled through one of his pockets and pulled out her sapphire hair pin.
Leandra reached a hand to her head. With all the excitement, she hadn't realized her hair had come loose! The neat bun had unraveled itself and her long black hair was flowing over her shoulders like a river of onyx. She took the pin and smiled. The sapphire gleamed in the moonlight. She blushed as she realized it reminded her of Malcolm's eyes. With two delicate fingers, she pulled at the collar of his under robes and secured the pin to them, right over his heart. Malcolm tried to protest.
"Leandra, I can't accept this! It is too much! I have nothing to give in return!"
Leandra smiled, "Nonsense! You have shown me what it feels like to have fun again. And I like how it matches your eyes." She went pale with embarrassment and looked away shyly.
Malcolm appeared less cocky than before and shifted uncomfortably. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up. "So … is it true what they say? I mean … are you really betrothed to the Comte?"
She sighed and nodded. When she looked into his eyes, she could see a slight sadness forming. With no emotion in his voice, he asked: "Do you love him?"
A single tear ran down her cheek. "No, no. I really don't. He is a very nice boy and I could do worse, I know that." She looked away and into the water. "But I can't live like this forever. I can't just sit back and let my parents force me to marry a man I don't love. I can't lay in his bed every night and bear snotty noble children for him. I feel like I'm suffocating. I'm trapped."
Malcolm pulled her closer and put his chin on the top of her head. "I often feel the same way," he said, "trapped in the gallows, letting the templars run my life."
Leandra looked up and placed her hands on his face, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I must seem incredibly selfish complaining like this to you."
He held the back of her head and looked deep into her eyes. "No, not selfish at all. To be honest, it is nice to see that we mages aren't so different from the rest of the world after all. I must thank you, Leandra. You are the first person to treat me like an equal outside the circle of magi. I feel so comfortable with you."
From the balcony of the mansion, voices were calling Leandra's name. She huffed with frustration. She did not want to leave the Malcolm's side. For the first time in a long time, she felt content. Suddenly an upsetting thought broke her silence. "Malcolm, what will the templars do to you for running from the party?"
Malcolm smiled, "Not to worry. I bet they already assumed I started the chaos and think I am hiding to avoid a lashing." He lowered his voice, "What I am more worried about is that they won't let me serve at a party again, and I won't get to see you."
Leandra placed her hands in his and watched his lips move. He smiled as he said: "I guess we will just have to make tonight memorable."
He placed one hand on her back and laced the other into her hair. Malcolm pulled her delicate body in close, closed his eyes, and passionately placed his lips against hers. Leandra released all the tension from her body as she melted in his arms and kissed back. His lips met hers over and over again until the shouts of her name grew closer. They pulled away and looked into each others eyes under the moonlight.
Malcolm seemed breathless, "Leandra, if you would allow it, I would like to see you again. I'll find a way."
Leandra smiled and nodded. Malcolm grinned widely and he turned to sprint. She watched as his dark form disappeared back into the trapdoor. Her lips tingled from the passion of his kiss. She shook off the spell and lept down from the fountain's edge. The frantic voices calling her name grew closer. She straightened out her dress and smoothed her hair as she began to walk in their direction. She barely registered the sighs of relief from her little rescue party and all the questions they frantically asked. Her mind was too enraptured with a name that felt sweet on her tongue, Malcolm Hawke.