A/N: I've put a lot of thought into this character and her story, this chapter is about who she is and how she grew up. I wanted to make a character that was different from the standard. Most people write about their beautiful charming lovely blah blah blah characters. But we all know that people are not like that. People are sometimes cruel, ugly, or dumb. And that's all that main characters are: People. My character is a person, just as vulnerable and sick as the next.

Chapter 1: Blood Child

Gwendolyn's sister and brother were the absolute picture of perfect. They were beautiful, kind, smart, witty, brave, the list goes on and on. Gwendolyn was not pretty or smart, or any of those things. She was nothing. In their shadow Gwendolyn was raised. They would always be better, more important then her. Every man she met would fall for her sister, and every care and expense was taken for her brother's education. Every dress, piece of jewelery, lesson, and even the very food she ate every day, was a gift from her parents. They told her to be grateful and to never defy them.

After all, it was her sister Elissa's job to continue on the family legacy, and her older brother Fergus's job to inherit and rule Highever. Little unimportant Gwen had no dignified duty to her family.

At her parents request she started memorizing the Chant from the moment she learned to read and write. In the mornings she would be woken earlier than all the other family members by one of the Chantry sisters to commence her daily prayers and recitations of the Chant. As a child Gwen didn't understand the meaning of the Maker or his influences, but simply followed her parents orders least she face their wrath.

While she learned the Chant, Fergus learned the beginnings of sword play, and Elissa the basics of grace and poise. They were all still children, but their parents had already chosen their roles for them, grooming them exactly to their standards.

Elissa and Gwendolyn were twins, not identical in anyway, but they came out of the womb at relatively the same time, Elissa obviously being the older one. With Elissa's blonde hair and enchanting laugh, their parents instantly fell in love with her, casting aside Gwen who had a very pale sickly face, light brown hair, and lifeless gray eyes.

Despite her lonely circumstance, Gwen was a happy child. She played often in the Chantry gardens, admiring its beauty and calmness. Sometimes, without their parents knowledge of course, Fergus would teach her his swordplay, the two would spar in the castle training grounds.

She made many friends among the servants, helping out in the kitchen before dinner. She was a curious spirit, like most children should be, which amused some of the older servants as she would find the most simple things amazing. The staff eventually came to adore her.

The relationship between Elissa and Gwen on the other hand, was strained. There was a constant pressure from their parents that they do not stay in the same place for very long, or have many interactions at all. Their schedules were arranged to be opposites, so they often only saw each other in passing glances, or when eating dinner together.

As the years of childhood innocence passed, so did Gwendolyn's circumstances and personality. She was no longer a happy little girl, but a bitter and lonely teenager. The servants that used to adore her started to avoid her, it was said she brought bad luck.

By the time they had both reached maturity Elissa looked ages older, with her beautiful long blonde hair and a curvacious body. Gwendolyn had a very plain face with pale boring features; a big nose, nails that never grew in right, and a skinny, flat, boyish body.

In the eyes of her parents, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, she could only benefit them by establishing an alliance by marriage or by making the Cousland family look pious and holy. She was told that when she grew into her womanhood, she would have only two options. If she was not engaged by her 21st birthday, she must give herself to the Chantry. She was hardly attractive enough to gain the attention of a man, even less so a potential suitor from a different noble house. Her parents were aware of this, and simply offered the other option as a reminder that the Chantry was truly her only option.

Her brother Fergus had some sympathy for her position, so he was gentle to her. He never made light of her, and in the darkest times for her he would lend a listening ear. Elissa was not a horrible sister, but the simple fact that Elissa was better than her in every way was enough to inspire distance between the two. But her parents... it felt as though her parents hated her sometimes, like she was some wretched thing to be tossed.

She had many more freedoms than her sister and brother in that she didn't have to attend court, or worry about what each and every noble thought about her. No one paid much attention to her, which gave her plenty of time to do what she liked. Yet, her siblings had what she craved even more than freedom: Love. To be loved by her parents. By anyone.

Men, she would often scoff, are all the same. On occasion Gwen would find herself developing a crush, on a servant boy, or perhaps a visiting noble's son, it didn't matter who, it always ended the same way. Some used her to get closer to Elissa, others completely ignored her, then there were that special few that ripped her heart out and crushed it. That special few being Nathaniel Howe.

Gwen had fallen in love with Nathaniel at age 16. They had been playmates as children, and even friends whenever it was convenient for him. She swooned about him in secret, until the devastating day that he discovered her feelings. Gwen had made the mistake of forgetting to lock the drawer to her hidden love letters. The moment that Elissa had discovered those letters, she told Nathaniel and he gagged. The sheer thought of romancing Gwendolyn was enough to make him puke. And of course there was another problem, he was utterly in love with Elissa.

Gwen never held resentment for her past crushes that went to Elissa, but this...this she would hold in her heart for a very long time. Burrowing the anger deep inside.

Trust did not come easy to Gwen, having been manipulated more than she'd like to admit in the past few years. She was suspicious of others' motives, but in any situation, she would try to take control and try to benefit herself. For she was the only one who looked out for her.

She grew up a neglected lady, taught all the proper greetings, how to be civil and all that, but she lacked the fundamental core of being loved. In turned that created a woman incapable of empathy.

The hate and resentment that built up so quickly inside her everyday demanded an outlet. Starting not long after her heart brake from Nathaniel, a few nights out of every week she would steal away into the nearby woods with a dagger or sword in hand. Slashing at every living thing in sight. Little woodland animals would lay dead at her feet. On the days that she felt most violent she would stalk dear or even moose. She didn't do this because she enjoyed it, she did it out of necessity, or else she would surely have murdered a person.

She would sneak back home through the servants quarter's, clothes stained with the blood of her animal victims.

Only a few servants knew of this habit, they called her the Blood Child, but they did not dare speak up against her. Although her parents did not care much for her well-being, they cared about dark rumors that would plague the family name, and would do almost anything to prevent them.

On restless nights that she couldn't sleep, she would sneak through the castle grounds at night, exploring like she used to when she was a child. She found many hidden passageways as well as good hiding spots. Should the need arise, she made mental notes each time she found something.

At 18 years of age she witnessed the public execution of a murderer. She saw the axe come down with the force of a falling tree, severing the man's head in two. Blood gushed everywhere, spraying her and others that were nearest. She so desperately wanted to feel something when she saw others suffering, but she could not. All she could do was stare blankly into their lifeless eyes. She often pondered why this was, perhaps killing so many animals made her immune to such things. But humans were not animals, or were they?

Years pass, a few weeks after her 20th birthday she rides to the village Chantry by horseback in the wee hours of the morning. Her purpose is deadly and sinful but she does not care. She plans to die in the Maker's house of worship, and hope that he will see her tormented soul and grant her forgiveness.

Gwen opened the large decorated wooden doors with a grave face. In a dream like trance she suddenly found herself at the front of the room, kneeling in before the golden statue of Andraste. Her tears flowed from her body, extinguishing the nearby candles and filling her lungs with smoke.

Suddenly, a large but warm hand was placed on her shoulder. It spoke of comfort and understanding. Things that Gwen no longer recognized in herself. She did not move at first, simply hearing the figure steadily beathe.

Without looking at the person she asked, "Why are you here?" It was too early for any reasonable person to be awake, so why was this person here right now?

A deep vibrant male voice answered in return, "I'm not sure, but I awoke from a disturbing dream and felt the need to come here and pray for answers. Then, I saw you. I could hear you crying, and saw the candles go out. My conscious feels for you and wonders: what could make you feel this way, that you'd cry so profusely?"

"Why has the Maker decided our fates to be so, that you'd find me here in this state? I am gone, far too gone to be saved. My fate has been chosen for me, something I cannot stand. I will take my fate into my own hands and have control over my own end." There was a long pondering silence before it was broken once again.

"The dream I had, it was of a young girl, barely starting the prime of her adult youth. Her dead body lay cold in front of this Chantry. I came upon this scene powerless to stop it, the horror that filled me jolted me from my sleep."

"Do you believe this girl to be me? Is that why you are here? If so then leave, the Maker had already chosen my fate when I was born into that family. It cannot be changed by you or me." The words seemed to turn to ash in her mouth.

"Perhaps His plan was betrayed by others, that this is not your end. That must be why I had the dream, so that I would come here and guide you back onto His divine plan. This life is not yet done for you. If fate is to truly be in your own hands, then at least let it be guided by a divine hand. Then you will find true happiness, not this life that you now lead. If you'd only believe it was possible. I am confident that it will change for you, if you'd only have faith...and smile." He said his piece and removed his hand, leaving her missing the comfort of another being.

This mysterious man had come here to save her. If the Maker truly had not forsaken her, then there was still some hope left for her, "I believe you." She turned to meet her savior but he was already gone, leaving her to wonder if he was ever really there at all.

She looked up to the statue once more, but in a different light, "Thank you," she said to no one in particular, but her life had been saved that day. That was all that mattered.

She had a purpose now, even if she didn't know it yet. She would wait patiently for the Maker to send her a sign of what would lead her to a better life, one that was not full of neglect and hate.