This was written for the Bioware Big Bang on Livejournal. I started it before any DLC came out that rendered it... well, totally AU.
Meh, oh well. ;)
There is art to go along with this! It was illustrated by the lovely nirrum! Here is the first- remove the spaces http:/ nirrum. deviantart. com/ art/ Not-So-Different-Piece -1- 243837102
It was a brutal winter in Kirkwall, the kind that rattled windows and sent ashes scattering across the floor from the drafts.
Leandra hated winter.
"You should go out more," her mother said. "I know the Comte's son asked you to dinner. Why did you say no?"
She made a face. The Comte's son was a stuffed shirt with a ridiculous Orlesian moustache. It looked like a squirrel's tail strapped above his mouth. She knew her mother approved of him, and would tolerate his company as a result since when mother was happy everyone was happy, but tolerating him and tolerating the cold at the same time was simply impossible. "I was tired," came the neutral response.
Elizabeth Amell looked at her daughter carefully, searching for signs of illness. "We should have the mage take a look at you when she arrives," the woman finally said. "You might be coming down with something."
"Mage?" Leandra looked at her mother in confusion.
Elizabeth only shrugged. "Oh, you know your father. Once he heard that Harrimann got a household mage, well, Faustian just had to get us one, too." She clearly wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. "There's no arguing with that man once he gets an idea in his head."
"Yes, but… a mage? What will we do with a mage?" Leandra knew next to nothing about mages, sparing that her cousin had been one. Taken to the Circle almost a year ago, when she was only four, and quickly boated off to Ferelden not long after; Aunt Revka wouldn't stop standing in the Gallows courtyard calling up to the little girl through the window of her new room at the Circle of Magi. The Chantry didn't like families keeping ties with mages so they shipped the poor child off to the barbarians in the south rather than keep her within her mother's grasp. Leandra imagined they would all end up terribly sad people, if that was any indication of their childhoods.
"As though I know," her mother replied. "She'll probably just keep the bloody fireplaces lit while the Chantry sits back collecting our coin!"
Not knowing how to respond to that, Leandra retreated to her room. Perhaps she could befriend the girl… well, if it was a girl. For all she knew they would send them a wizened old crone who would join her mother in tutting about the Comte's son.
Over dinner that night her father seemed, if anything, amused by the situation. "Harrimann's going to be seeing green," he laughed. "Best healer in the Kirkwall circle, that's what they tell me. On track to be the youngest person to make senior Enchanter."
"Why did he not ask for the best?" Elizabeth asked.
"You know how he is," Faustian replied. "He wants the nice things, but won't pay for them. He got the best a lower price could buy. And, he wanted a man. Understandably so, really. That son of his can be a bit… reckless; he didn't want some mage woman ending up in a family way." Faustian chuckled. "Not that I can blame him for that. Can you even imagine the scandal?"
"I can imagine a lot of things," Gamlen said, smirking slightly. Leandra looked over at him and laughed. Their parents were so oblivious neither had the slightest idea that Harrimann's son was on track only to rival the eldest Amell child as the most notorious playboy in Hightown.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, father," Gamlen said. "Nothing. Just… thinking about tomorrow."
"You are such a pig," Leandra said as they walked upstairs after the meal. "This poor girl probably hasn't even been outside in a decade. Don't… traumatize her!"
"Come on, Leandra, I'm not some sort of monster. Besides, everyone deserves a chance to live a little." He dropped his voice. "You can't say you're not curious, can you?"
"I can say I'm not curious quite easily," she replied. "Why look, I just did!" She made a face at him. "You know in twenty years that girl could very easily be little Margar—"
"Please don't remind me," he said, cutting her off. "Flames, I don't know what to think about that. I feel sorry for the girl. Really, don't get me wrong. But since then I've had two, ah, friends tell me they weren't interested in spending time with someone who had magic in their family line."
"Oh, so let's bring some more in, then, why don't we?" she said. "You're mentally undressing this woman and you haven't even met her yet. For all you know she's ugly as a mule!"
"True," he agreed. "And what a tragedy that would be for me. But until then don't ruin my fantasies, sister."
With that, he gave her a smirk and sauntered back to his room. Leandra only shook her head, calling "Pig!" once more at his retreating form.
The next afternoon Leandra and Gamlen watched with curiosity from the second story of the main hall, hoping to get a glimpse of the new help.
"This is much more exciting than the last time we got a new cook," she confessed. "Maybe she and I can be friends! I bet they don't let them have nice things in the Gallows, and I've got plenty of dresses…"
"Now who's getting ahead of themselves?" Gamlen asked with a chuckle. "I just hope she has legs for miles. I already know she's got magic fingers."
Before Leandra could respond to that, there was a knock at the door. The siblings fell silent, waiting for her to be escorted into the main hall where their parents waited.
Something was wrong. Her father was arguing with a templar, imposing helm firmly in place. Behind him she could see a flash of red, a thin arm, a long skirt. "Let's go downstairs," she whispered to Gamlin. "I want to hear them!"
Bounding down the stairs, she ignored her mother trying to wave them away. "Now I was told we'd be getting the best healer in Kirkwall."
"You are, Serah," the templar replied. He sounded tired.
"Really?" Faustian said. "Since the description I was given of the mage we'd be sent was quite different."
Leandra stepped to the side, peeking around the templar. Maker's breath, she's the ugliest woman I've ever seen, was her first thought as she caught a glimpse of a heavy jawline beyond shaggy red hair, thick brows and the tip of a nose barely visible. Looks like… her thoughts stopped as the mage looked to her left. Seeing their face she quickly realized it wasn't an unfortunately mannish young woman. It was a young man a rather handsome young man, at that.
"Blast and damnation," Gamlen muttered from behind her.
The mage continued to shift, glancing around nervously. His skin was so pale she imagined she could see veins below the surface. At every word about the clearly inferior mage the Circle was trying to send them she could see his shoulders tense.
He was silent, but something about the man's posture gave her the idea that was an unfamiliar state for him. Realizing that, it shouldn't have surprised her when a moment later, the young man turned so he was looking her father in the face clearly waiting for a chance to speak. "I assure you, I am the finest healer in Kirkwall's circle," he finally said, sounding slightly offended. Not that Leandra could blame him.
"Oh?" her father asked. "And the other mage? Was she also the best?"
"Actually, yes," he said. "We had the same grades. She was considered top of our year because of… unrelated classes." Faustian stared at the young man, he responded by crossing his arms insolently. "So I failed math. Last I checked I don't need to calculate out my spells with a pen and paper."
"And what happened to her? Why was this changed without notifying me?"
"She is… no longer available," the templar said, voice tense.
"Well, who else got her? Was it that bastard Harrimann?"
"She's dead," the mage broke in flatly. "She hung herself."
"Mage," the templar said, an ominous note of warning in his voice.
"What?" the young man replied. "I just said she decided life wasn't worth living. I never told them it was because she was tired of being used as an unwilling whore by the templar—"
Light flashed off the bright silver armor of the templar as his hand struck out, sending the young man sprawling to the floor. He seemed to glow blue for a moment before standing back up, wiping blood away from unbroken skin.
"See?" he said to Lord Amell, clearly untroubled by, or at the very least accustomed to, such treatment. "Not even a scratch. I dare you to find me a healer who could do better."
"Fine," Faustian said, hands raised in defeat. He didn't actually care, Leandra knew that. He wanted to say he had the best mage in Kirkwall, it didn't matter if it was man, woman, or trained dancing donkey. The whole show was just to let the templar know Faustian Amell wouldn't bow before them. "Fine, you can stay." He turned his attention to the templar. "You, though… get out of my house. I don't know what kind of animals they have running around the Gallows, but civilized people don't beat others in the front hall." For a moment she thought the templar would then turn on her father, which pretty much confirmed his summation of the situation as far as Leandra was concerned. To her relief the man bowed stiffly and strode out after a tense moment.
"How bloody much is this guy costing us?" Gamlen whispered. "Templars don't put up with smart-mouthing unless they've got no other choice. Pop must be giving a fortune to the Chantry for them to make him tolerate that."
Leandra didn't reply, still disturbed by the young man's answer to think on much else. She couldn't help but realize the templar hadn't denied anything, either.
Dinner that night was quiet. "Do you think it was true?" she finally asked.
"Think what was true?" her father replied.
"What he said. About the other mage."
Her father looked thoughtful. "I hope not," he said, "even if only for Revka and her girl's sake."
"I'd hate to meet the sort who would invent a story like that," her mother said. "There are things you don't joke about." She made a face of disgust, setting her napkin aside.
Leandra considered that for a moment, in complete agreement. The mage was eating with the household staff, off somewhere in the back of the estate. "That would be a horrible thing to make up," she said. "I don't think he did, though."
"Me neither," Gamlen agreed. "The templar knew what he would say before he said it. That was one guilty man right there." Leandra nodded. She had been thinking the same thing.
"I can't believe the Chantry would tolerate such a thing," her mother said quietly. "They're still people, after all."
"I can," Gamlen said. "The templars were happy to kill the last viscount. What, you think they're nice to the people they openly control?" He shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "That's life."
