Dragon Age: Vendetta

Chapter I Leliana

Well it seems that I've drawn an audience, if the indication of visitors is accurate. Hopefully this is the start of what I hope to be a following as I dabble into the world of Dragon Age.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer, I own Guinevere, everything else belongs to BioWare. Story concept and structure I owe to Snafu1000, including her map of Fereldan, which I will be taking it and making my own variation on it.

The woman stared at her disbelievingly at the girl, drenched in blood. She managed to stay the young Warden's blade just as it was about to behead a defenceless soldier.

The Warden faced the redhead next to her, bemused. The woman nearly took a step back when she looked into the girl's eyes. Darkness. Absolute darkness within those lifeless eyes. No spark of life. No signs of emotions. Just a solid block of black, blotting out the entirety of her soul.

"Why'd you stop me?" This time she did take a step back, letting go of her hand as well. The Warden's voice held nary a sign of emotions. It just…was. It was a simply question of why. No angry demands. No indignation. Just plain curiosity.

She eventually recovered her wits enough to respond. "They've surrendered! Surely you were taught not to strike a man while he's down."

The Warden shrugged blithely and said, "A knight's code. Not mine." The young knight and the war hound looked at her flabbergasted. The mage woman and qunari watched disinterestedly.

"What are you talking about?" The knight stated. "You're the daughter of a teryn for Maker's sake!"

The Warden barely looked over her shoulder and said, "I told you Alistair, Guinevere Cousland is dead." The woman glanced towards the one called Alistair. He looked more sad than surprised. Clearly he had heard this before. The Warden was merely reinforcing what she just stated.

The Warden turned her attention back towards the men who cowed before her. She focused more so towards the sergeant, his confidence and assurance replaced with cowardice and fear. She pulled out a cloth from her belt, and started to wipe the blade. She never broke eye contact.

"Take a message to Logain." The sergeant quickly nodded; horribly unnerved by her eerily calm demeanour. "Tell him that he will answer for his crimes."

"Yes, of course," he stammered. He scrambled onto his feet and bee lined for the door with his men.

"One more thing." They stopped, rooted where they stood. Very slowly they looked behind; absolute fear glimmered in their eyes, like a beacon. With deliberate slowness, she gradually looked over her shoulder. "Inform Rendon Howe he will kneel before the seneschal for what he has done." For a moment, everyone noted how the room seemed colder. "Now…be gone." In an instant, the men ran out, their horrified screams permeating through the wooden door.

Alistair was the first to recover, quickly donning on a smile and declared, "Well, I think that went well, didn't you?"

The mage, however, was not amused. "Oh do shut up."

Guinevere tuned out the bantering and directed her attention back towards the woman before her, noting the Chantry robes. A priest or a lay sister perhaps. She noted how people were slowly backing away from her. A small inconvenience.

"Where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

The sister raised an eyebrow at such a simple question. She glanced around. Where they stood, middle of the tavern, was definitely not a good place to talk. Everyone could see them, and probably hear them.

"Perhaps we should talk somewhere more…privately?" She indicated to the raised area, where the soldiers had occupied earlier.

Guinevere nodded, and signalled everyone to where the Chantry woman indicated. Before she even took a step, people were already giving her a wide berth, eyeing her and the qunari with mixtures of wariness and fearfulness. No one dared argue them taking their seats. They weren't stupid.

When the party sat down, Guinevere noted the barkeep marshalled a few men to clean up the bodies. She waved him over and ordered ales for herself and Alistair, along with anyone else in her party. He was more than happy to oblige, both for ridding the soldiers and to stave off her ire. With haste he filled their steins and placed them on the tables. He promptly walked away. He liked the idea of living.

She eyed her drink momentarily before lifting it up to her lips. She sighed contently, feeling the cool liquid down her throat. An amenity of life she enjoyed. Drinking it reminded her of the many times –

"I apologise for interfering, but I could not just sit by and not help." She looked up from her drink to the sister sat across from her. She nodded her head once, and turned indicated for her to answer her earlier question.

"I wasn't born in the Chantry you know. Many of us had more…colourful lives before we joined."

"Quite colourful from what I saw," Alistair commented. He quickly back off at Guinevere's sidelong look.

"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

The Warden stopped mid drink. She set down her stein and raised a brow in curiosity. "Excuse me?"

"I'm coming with you." The Warden wondered why she sounded like she was entitled to do so. "It's the Maker's will."

She leaned back against her seat, and carefully surveying the girl in front of her. "Why so eager to come with me?" Her voice remained calm and neutral. She genuinely wanted to know why someone would willingly throw their lot with her, especially with current rumours.

"It is as I said, the Maker told me so."

"More crazy? I thought we were full up already."

Guinevere sighed, both at Alistair's comment, and the sister's statement. "I care little for religious prattle. I would like to know why you wish to join me. Not the will of some Divine being. If you're joining me for such a reason, I have no use for such motivations."

"How about the darkspawn is an affront to everything that is good in this world?" She continued to look back at her, resolute and confident with her stance. "I enjoy the world as it is. I will not allow an opportunity to pass where I can protect it. Maker's will or not."

Guinevere nodded in approval. "Better reason than most. If you wish to join us, you may."

The Chantry smiled and held out her hand. "I am Leliana, one of the lay-sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or at least I used to be."

"Warden Guinevere." The young woman accepted the proffered hand and shook it. She left to them if they chose to introduce themselves or not. Eventually she addressed the issue of finding means of funds; one that Leliana quickly answered, mentioning various jobs available throughout the city.

The woman, Morrigan, however, disapproved. "Surely you can just take what you need. Tis not like they'll need the supplies as much as we do."

"While an efficient method, not the most appropriate," Guinevere countered.

Morrigan scoffed. "Tis a fool notion. And did you not say you're not bound to a Knight's Oath?"

"I may not be a knight, but they are not my enemy."

"Surely that's not –"

"If you don't like how I work, you may leave."

Morrigan stared at the Warden, disbelief etched across her face. "Surely you jest!"

"As sure as I am not to disturb folk who are trying to run from this Blight." She continued to drink while her free hand rested atop the war hound's head. Any further protest she silenced with a simple glare, and an air of aloofness. But even so, she continuously scanned the tavern, content with merely observing her surroundings. And her party mates.

From her seat, Leliana observed everyone at the table: a young knight, a warden whom seemed to have buried herself and her loyal Mabari, a witch of unknown origins, and a qunari who committed murder. Although she did wonder how he was released. And of course, herself. Clearly the Maker had interesting plans for all of them.

Of course, she kept the thought to herself.