Author's Note - This is my second story, and it is darker than the last. M Rating is earned, but hopefully not overly gratuitous. Trigger Warning for this 1st Chapter. If you don't want to read about the attempted sexual assault, then you can stop reading the chapter at the underlined sentence and move to the next chapter. It is only referenced one other time in the story and it doesn't affect comprehension if you skip it. BioWare/EA owns stuff, I'm just messing with it.
One - Bottles, Bows, Belts, etc.
At this point, her nobility was something she never thought about. Unless she was thinking of new ways to hide it. The Trevelyans of Ostwick were marked by genetics as much as nobility. All of them were taller than most, and had eyes that looked like they were made of jade. This particular woman also had dark crimson hair that looked like freshly spilt blood.
For several years she was a thief, using a mask to hide her identity. She took jobs that usually involved stealing from nobles who she knew were assholes. She was a very skilled duelist, but she preferred not to fight during jobs. It was much easier to sneak into a place, take what she wanted and leave without a trace. Still, it couldn't always be avoided. Usually because she would drink on the job and make too much noise.
If a fight occurred however, those who tangled with her usually didn't survive the encounter.
During one job, there were two 'Templars' who she'd caught attempting to capture an elven woman they claimed had information on an escaped apostate.
When she pressed them, they revealed themselves to be bandits. In truth, their weapons gave them away long before their words did in Magnolia's eyes. Magnolia beat the two men into red paste that soaked into the stones of the alleyway. The elf told Magnolia that her name was Treva, and that she'd just earned free drinks for life at the small pub where she worked. Treva was appreciative to say the least; the two became fast friends. Unfortunately, Magnolia's drinking ability led to the whole 'free drinks for life' becoming more a of a 'free drinks occasionally' thing.
Not that Magnolia was hurting for coin. Thanks to her brother, and a few others, Magnolia was an incredibly skilled duelist, an above-average archer and a legendary alcoholic. The potent combination of the first two meant she stayed well-supplied enough to support the third. She stole whatever else she needed. It also provided cover. No one assumed the red-headed lush sleeping in the corner of the tavern was the most wanted thief in Starkhaven.
Treva never used Magnolia's name, saying that Lia suited her better. Treva was the one that would find nobles for her to knock over. It worked out perfectly; Treva would set them up, and Magnolia would knock them down.
Eventually her nobility came calling. After a particularly draining job, she was 'temporarily retired.' She lived in a reclaimed cabin just outside of a Carta encampment about half a day's walk from Kirkwall. She'd heard that someone was looking for her the last time she was in Ostwick, and she'd assumed one of the dwarves had let on to the fact that she was living near them. She'd been at the cabin for a little over a year, and with the exception of those at the Carta encampment, she hadn't heard much from the outside world. Not that she needed to be concerned. She'd had a good string of jobs that left her with enough sovereigns to stay reasonably drunk and fed for the foreseeable future.
She wasn't really interested in people; the only ones she'd known outside of her brother's family and Treva were cold and calculating. Instead of talking to people, she practiced her weapon techniques. She read and re-read the books she'd collected. If anyone ever needed to know which Divines refrained from urinating on the Sundays, she'd be the one to contact. Magnolia had become a bit of a history buff; she was particularly well-versed Grey Warden history.
One time a Bard told her she looked as if she was made of gemstones. She had ruby colored hair and emerald eyes, and easily figured out what his real intentions were. Eventually the Bard became more forthcoming, and then later, downright threatening. It was the usual, sadly typical response from men who were used to women falling at their feet. Magnolia beat the man half to death with his own lute. It was her usual, sadly typical response. Eventually the regulars at the Tavern started warning men against chatting up the drunken redhead in the corner. It worked out well for Magnolia, as it meant no one interrupted her reading and drinking.
But her looks weren't a common combination; if someone asked one of the dwarves about a woman matching her description it would be easy for her to be found out. The courier looked as she'd assumed all of her living relatives to look. His steps were too loud, too concerned with themselves. His outfit, which was supposed to make him look regal, made him look like an overstuffed fennec. She'd spotted him about 100 yards away from her campsite and raised her bow.
She wouldn't have been able to put enough force behind it to kill him at this distance, but she thought she might scare him. She might have tried to knock off his hat if she'd been drunker, or if he'd come later in the day.
It was basically the same thing.
That sounded funny for some reason, more than likely it was the fact that she was on her third ale of the afternoon. Sober, she was above average with a bow. Drunk, less so. She was an exceptional duelist either way. She typically only used the bow to hunt game, preferring to take a more hands on approach with her professional work.
Malcolm probably wished she'd taken his training with a sword and shield more seriously. However, she'd always been a high-risk, high-reward type of fighter.
Her words.
She was a reckless wrecking-ball that was eventually going to take a bad step and end up painting the cobblestones of some back alley with her entrails.
His words.
She fired, missing his head by about a foot. The shot was actually a little lower than she intended. She'd spent most of the morning drinking and as a result her fine motor skills were a little impaired. Startled, the courier turned a dark shade of red, almost complementing the dyed cotton that made up his outfit. He was too far away for her to signal to come closer, and he probably wouldn't have even if he'd seen her.
She could chase him? Nah, she thought. Too soon after the whole arrow business.
She was wearing an old cowl and a former mercenary captain's old tunic. It was black and plaidweave, and it looked exactly like something someone important to her used to wear. She bought it right off the back of the man. He offered her what was under the tunic as well, but she was uninterested in his wares. The loose fitting garment hung off of her, making her look larger and less feminine than her toned body would have been suggested, if he were to get close enough to tell. Not to mention she wasn't wearing pants, opting to wear the large tunic like a sundress.
To recap, a courier came looking for a noblewoman, and was fired upon by a slightly tipsy pantless archer.
The woman frowned. 'Probably not off to the best start,' she thought.
Sure enough, two days later the same courier came by with four armed guards. She hesitated, reaching for her bow and her father's lyrium infused broadsword. It wasn't a weapon she could wield accurately, so much as a reminder; it was one of the three possessions of her parents she still had.
It was also still a massive fucking weapon.
She hadn't quite racked up the kill count her father had with it, but she was proficient enough with her daggers to not be in any real danger from bandits. Four well armed knights might be another story. She needed to be ready to run, in case the courier was no longer interesting in delivering the message he was paid to deliver and was instead looking to send a message of his own. She grabbed her mother's charm and put it on. It always felt as if it was slightly humming, but it had saved her life more times than she could count.
There was a knock at the door. She set her two packs outside the back of the small cabin and went to the door. She stepped carefully to ensure that she hadn't alerted the men outside to her location inside of the cabin. She then gently lifted a floorboard, and hid her father's sword and bow. She hoped she could return from them.
"Who is it?" Lia asked. "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested."
She stressed the 'we're' in that sentence, hoping that they might hesitate to attack if they knew she wasn't alone.
"We were told that one Magnolia Trevelyan was nearby," said the largest of the guards. "We have a message for her, it is about a matter that must be addressed now."
Shit, she thought. She hadn't heard her real name in three years. When she was working bounties she didn't use names and the three bartenders she counted amongst her friends called her Lia. Treva was the only one who knew who she actually was.
So, if she'd shot at a Courier, and her brother had heard of this, it would make sense to send the courier back with protection.
But four knights? Not cheap. Not that her brother concerned himself with trivial things like cost.
"We are sending her out," she said, attempting to adopt a different voice to maintain the ruse that she wasn't alone. "If we hear anything ungainly we will retaliate."
That sounded like something her brother would say.
The Guard sighed. "My Lady, we have been observing the cabin for the last 6 hours. You are alone. If we intended to attack you, it would have already happened."
Fuck, she thought. She wondered what she was going to look like to him. Unkempt red hair. Dark rings around her eyes. The scar along her jaw had healed nicely. The one on her lip would need awhile. Certainly not the noblewoman he was going to be expecting.
"One second,' she said, dropping the act. "Allow me the courtesy of looking somewhat presentable." Her soft, lilting accent always betraying her. She couldn't sound threatening, not really. It didn't really bother her often; most times it allowed for her to be underestimated.
Something she often used to her advantage.
She threw a shawl over her head, covering her slightly larger than average ears. There was nothing reasonable she could do with her face, so she wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide the tan she had from her leathers. She hadn't left the woods for some time, and didn't plan on leaving anytime soon. She'd fallen into a nice routine of training, drinking, reading and hunting. She wasn't excited about the prospect of it ending anytime soon.
She opened the door to a somewhat comical sight. Five men, all unquestionably larger than her (although in the case of the courier, the additional girth was more of a hindrance than an advantage). All of them looking extremely stern, and somewhat afraid. Her chest tightened, she calculated how quickly she could get to her father's sword resting against the wall behind the door.
The courier decided to step out from behind the large guard. "My Lady Trevelyan, This is a message from Chevalier Captain Malcolm Trevelyan. Due to the Mage Rebellion and subsequent destruction of the Chantry, your bloodline requires you to serve as the familial representative at the Conclave in service to the Chantry."
"Wait," she said shocked. "What's going on?"
The Courier paused, taking stock of her toned yet slight shape. "Madam, when was the last time you left these grounds?"
Maybe she looked a little rougher than she thought.
"A little over three months," she lied. It sounded better than the truth, which was that she'd been somewhat tipsy for the last six months and hadn't left the mountainside. She had some correspondence with Treva, but that was about it. The mages and templars had been fighting for awhile now. Magnolia only really cared about her brother, and Treva. Neither was a mage, or a templar. She didn't really have a dog in this fight.
Shit, the courier thought. He realized that she was going to be the bearer of a lot of bad news.
There wasn't much to that bad news. Other than the fact that the 'Mage Rebellion' of the last couple of years had escalated into a full on war that was probably going to lead to the end of the world if someone didn't intervene. Luckily that someone, Divine Justinia, called a meeting that was supposed to prevent the war from swallowing all of Thedas.
She also learned from some of the other nobles that most of the families in the Free Marches were sending their cast offs and black sheep. To put it another way, they were sending those they viewed as disposable. That wasn't exactly her situation. The Trevelyans were respected, but dying out. Malcolm was Magnolia's only living relative that she cared about, and his sons were too young to serve anything other than stolen pies from the servant's quarters. The rest of the family was basically useless. If Malcolm asked, it was important to him. Considering he'd never asked her for much, she always obliged when she could.
One of those noble black sheep was Edgar. After several drinks with Edgar she saw the way he eyed her. The way his hand casually brushed her thigh with every bump of the carriage. She didn't need much to look striking. A few nights sans alcohol had done wonders for her skin, and the whites of her eyes looked slightly less pink. She had powerful, toned legs and a tight midsection. She'd actually been in a few duels with men who'd claimed to be able to 'tame' her.
Her record was unblemished.
But the man appeared harmless. Promised to the Chantry, he was simply trying to live a little before taking his vows.
Still, she originally considered it luck to have found another noble castoff who was well stocked in wine. She figured she could probably maintain a steady buzz throughout what was definitely going to be a political snooze fest. All the nobles of Thedas walking around with their dicks out and length of rope for anyone willing to measure. Lia only agreed to this because her brother had done everything he could for her, including letting her run away when she did. He was twenty five years her senior, and harbored no ill-will towards her despite the fact that they only shared a father, not a mother.
They'd made camp by a town called Haven. The local brew had a bit of a kick to it, more so than the dwarven beers she'd been drinking. She passed out. Or blacked out. She wouldn't know until she woke up.
She awoke to the sight of a half naked man attempting to pull down her pants. It was Edgar, the man with the wine from the trip to Haven. She'd made it her mission to avoid him after the trip had concluded and he'd revealed himself to be less pious than originally thought. Especially when he revealed himself.
Considering the weakness of some men's constitution, she would later think that she should have killed him then, as laughing at the insignificance of his protrusion seemed to have been just as cutting. Still, after her rejection of his advances she'd made it her job to stay away from the man as bast as she could.
She'd thought she'd been successful. But here she was. Her shoes were off, strewn across the floor. One of her pauldrons was missing. She didn't have any of her things with her.
"What the plan now?" She asked, eyes half-lidded from not being fully cognizant.
"Uh..."the man said, backing away. "I was making sure the maiden was comfortable before retiring for the evening. I'm afraid we've both had too much to drink."
Bullshit. The tent that appeared between his legs wasn't very pronounced, but it was noticeable. Also, while she was pretending to still be out of it, she could tell he was very much in control of his faculties.
Fuck, she thought. She was unsure of what to do next. Vincent continued backing away, his left hand inches away from the door handle. He'd heard rumors about Magnolia having criminal connections, but wasn't thinking with his rational mind at the time.
"Wait," she said. "Don't go.
She said this as seductively as she could stomach. Who knows how many times he'd gotten away with it. Maybe this was his first time trying some shit like this. She couldn't know for sure. She didn't care though. He wasn't going to get the chance to do it again.
He looked visibly more relaxed. He came back towards the bed, confidence and determination was returning to those eyes she'd awoken to. She felt like a spider with a fly in its web. She wanted to throw up.
Edgar got close enough to drag his index finger along her tight stomach, and looked into her eyes. They were a bright, glittering green. He grinned when her body tensed at his touch. She smiled.
He smiled.
Moments passed.
There was a thud, and then nothing.
More moments passed. More thuds.
As Lia was mopping up the blood from the man's skull she noted the vestments he'd casually thrown on the dresser. He was a member of the Chantry, already. Not the noble castoff he pretended to be. She didn't remember what uniforms meant, but a man in the Chantry had just tried to have his way with her.
His crushed skull was not enough to placate her, but it would have to do. She noticed she wasn't in her quarters, and she saw nothing to suggest she was in his quarters either. He'd probably taken her to some small, dark area in the Chantry. For a moment she thought she'd heard something, and panicked.
She needed to cover this up. Fast. She'd taken his belt, and through it over a post in his room. She hung the man's corpse from the rafters and waited. It didn't take long.
His weight and the sturdiness of the post had been too much for the belt. It snapped and he fell to the floor, making it look as if he'd hung himself and then the belt snapped, causing him to hit his head. Hopefully when they found him he would be too decomposed to notice how bashed in his head really was. It wasn't her best work, but as long as she wasn't caught here, it didn't need to be. She felt around her neck for her mother's charm, held it for a moment, then disappeared.
As soon as she returned to a part of the Chantry she remembered, she released the charm. Magnolia heard a woman's screams for help echo through one of the hallways. Fearing what almost happened to her was happening to someone else, she ran down the corridor to the last door on the left when she walked through she was hit with a beam of green light and awoke on the smoldering ground. She stumbled towards two men walking her direction, and passed out.
