Chapter 2: The Handmaiden
"We have a busy day ahead of Esmeralda, do try to keep up."
Izzy rushed after Leandra Hawke, when the Viscountess had asked her to look after her cousin yesterday, she had not expected the task to be so…so…
…Hectic.
"Yes, Lady Hawke," she puffed from behind, "Yes."
The halls of the keep were buzzing with activity. Guests were arriving for the wedding while servants tended to the duties necessary to make the grand event all go smoothly. Lady Leandra had chosen to handle much the planning of the event herself, Izzy was surprised that the bride and groom did not seem to mind.
She smiled slightly to herself.
Had the bride and groom been anyone but Captain Aveline Vallen and Garrett Hawke, it might have been impossible.
Izzy was trying not to gawk like a common bumpkin. The keep was being transformed, this was not going to be any mere wedding.
It was going to be…a spectacle!
The Champion was not a man for large spectacle; she had gotten that from the conversations that the Viscountess had with the man. Guard Captain Vallen was an extremely practical woman; she likely would have been content being married in private ceremony with just family and a priest present.
No, this event was for Lady Hawke, it was clear that Lady Leandra loved her eldest son and his fiancé, but at the same time, she wished to show the world the strength of House Amell, a house, which, until recently, had been ripped apart by conflict and strife.
Esmeralda Poole was no fool. She understood the value of symbols. Lady Hawke no doubt wanted an event to honor her son, but she also wanted the world to see the strength of their family.
House Amell needed to be seen as an institution, a family like iron, unchallenged and unbreakable.
It was the best way to ensure peace.
The Lady was a woman possessed, she stopped every few feet to speak with this servant or that, to receive an update from a cook or a footman, and then she was off again striding purposely down the corridor, barely slowing to catch her breath, and often leaving her younger charge in the dust.
Izzy smiled slightly.
She found herself hoping that she would have as much energy as Leandra Hawke when she reached her age. The woman's strength seemed boundless, and she was so quick, even in noble garments.
Izzy was just grateful she had decided to wear flat sensible shoes today.
The pad she carried in her left arm jiggled slightly as she moved, the ink well attached to it was curved just so that it wouldn't spill, occasionally Leandra would stop and ask her to make note of this or that, when she did, Izzy would need to pause to make sure the ink did not run, or get on her pale blue gown. They passed by several noble daughters of Kirkwall, more than few sneered at the young girl. The Pooles were technically nobility, but many here still looked down their noses at what they considered an upstart and renegade House.
Either that, Izzy thought glumly, or her clothes showed a lack of fashion sense, both could be a possibility.
She had not been born to wealth and privilege; her father had been a soldier, Ser Henri Poole, a chevalier in the Empress' army, before he had lost his leg in a carriage accident. She had spent the bulk of her youth living in small Garrison fortresses on the fringes of the Orlesian Empire, learning skills that would allow her to make her way in that world. Her brother had been training to be a soldier while she prepared for the duties of becoming a soldier's wife, or perhaps an officer's. Then news had arrived from the city of Kirkwall, news that had changed everything.
Her Uncle Gaston was dead. He had been on the wrong side of an attempt to unseat Viscountess Amell. He had risen to the rank of Seneschal here in Kirkwall, but had lost it all when his patron, young Daylen Amell, had been defeated.
The death of her uncle had sent House Poole into a tailspin. Their businesses failed and floundered as cousins unprepared to take over tried to fill the seat left by the head of their family. As Uncle Gaston's younger brother, her father had had no choice to take up the reigns lest the family slide in obscurity and collapse.
So the father had left his military life behind, his injuries had all but ended it anyway, the loss of a leg any further chance of military advancement, he might have been chevalier, but without allies he would never have been able to achieve the generalship that had eluded him all his life. He had never thought twice, he had picked up his family and moved to Kirkwall, most, if not all, of Uncle Gaston's contacts had been here, so it was the best possible location to begin to rebuild their house.
Many nobles here were not happy about that. They viewed House Poole as an enemy of House Amell. Many in the Viscountess' house still looked at her family as their enemy. Her brother saw the Amells as a threat that they were trying to control House Poole. Father kept his own counsel on that, but he remained guarded when it came to the Viscountess and her family.
When Lady Solona offered her a position on her court, she was surprised that he did not refuse.
A melancholy smile came to Izzy's lips.
Her mother, Andraste keep her, had done what she could to make her daughter a lady. She had always hoped that Izzy would marry well, and live a life of wealth and nobility. She beautiful enough, or so mother had always said, personally Izzy did not see it. She had never trusted the looks she had received from the men in her father's garrisons, women were few and far between out in the provinces.
A soldier's eye in such a situation was hardly a good judge of beauty. Any woman would do for such men.
Mother would have approved of her joining the Viscountess' court, even if it was only as one of the Viscountess' handmaidens. It was a place to be seen; she stood next to the throne during court, awaiting her mistress' orders. From such a position, many a young noble would see her, and perhaps grow curious about her.
Who knows, she thought, my future husband might just walk into the court one day. Who is that girl, he would ask.
And that is where it would all begin.
An elven page rushed past her, he did not bump into her, but she had been forced to take a step back and bumped into a one of the servant's ladders.
She tried to move away quickly but her left foot was caught behind her right.
She started to fall.
She squeaked with terror, her inkwell started to go, likely to douse her face.
A pair of firm hands stopped her, one on her shoulder, and the other at her waist.
"Easy," she heard a cool male voice growl.
She blushed pure scarlet.
It would be him, wouldn't it?
"Thank you, Ser Fenris," she cooed, "That could have been very bad."
The elven warrior snorted.
"I'm no, ser," he reminded her, "and you should be more careful, many here would enjoy seeing your embarrassment."
She gave him a sheepish grin.
She understood that quite well.
She found herself staring at her savior; Fenris was unlike any elf she had ever met. Most she had known were servants, simpering or fawning in their manner. He was not like that. Fenris carried himself with the confidence of a true warrior born; she had seen many such men during her days in the provinces. The spiky Tevinter armor he wore seemed almost like a second skin. His markings and silver hair reminded her a bit of the spotted hunting cats she had seen brought back to the keep, even in death they spoke of the strength of a predator.
Those eyes of his, they…they…
Her blush darkened.
They also spoke of danger and strength.
They frightened her, but also…filled her with a strange excitement.
Unlike the rest of the Viscountess' allies, he had never looked upon her with distrust. Perhaps he did not see a threat, or maybe he was the one trusted by his mistress to make sure that she did not betray them?
If that was the case, she would never give him reason to doubt her. She could feel the strength in him.
She had no desire to see such fierceness directed at her.
"Esmeralda?"
Lady Leandra's voice took her out of her musings.
She gave Fenris a slight curtsey.
"Um…good day, ser," she murmured
She rushed off before he could say more, likely to deny her high opinion of him.
She smiled to herself.
Fenris might not be a knight in name, but he was definitely one in manner.
She had seen enough knights in her time to know that to be true.
She managed to catch up to Lady Leandra; the woman had been speaking with the elf in charge of the place settings. Something about keeping the Trevelyans and the Delauncets apart, some old family squabble apparently.
Izzy made note of the change in place settings, something that would not offend the Comte or the Bann. Once Leandra thought the matter settled they were off again.
This time she moved slower, allowing the girl to catch up. Izzy came up alongside the older woman.
She gave the girl a knowing smile.
"Is something going on between you and Fenris, dear?"
The question shocked Izzy. Few nobles would just…blurt out such a question.
It had caught her off guard.
"I…um…I do not believe that would be appropriate, Lady Leandra," she said quickly, "Not only that, but I'm certain my family would not approve."
"True," the elder noble agreed, "But if experience has taught me anything, dear. It is that the heart wants what it wants, regardless of duty and noble upbringing.
The girl's blush darkened.
Careful girl, this could be trap.
Her Father's warning about the Amells trying to destroy their house slowed her answer, but did not stop it totally.
She had heard the tales about Leandra Hawke of course. The story said that she had eloped as a girl with a Fereldan apostate, that she had not returned until years later and even then only because as Blight had destroyed her home.
Such a woman would not blame Izzy for…indiscreet thoughts, no matter how inappropriate they were of a girl of her station.
"Ser Fenris is brave and handsome," she told the older woman, "But nothing could come of me pursuing such a…a…dalliance. My family needs me to do what is best to further our place here. Certainly, you can understand that?"
The older woman paused, her eyebrow rose in surprise.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Izzy immediately regretted them.
What had she been thinking?!
Leandra was well loved by the Viscountess, and she had just insulted the woman.
It had been a stupid move.
Then Leandra did something that surprised her.
The older woman chuckled.
"I do understand dear," she said, "But I also know that the heart of a young woman is not so quick to change direction."
Izzy shook her head.
"Perhaps, it is better not to start down that path in the first place."
Again Lady Hawke gave her that same knowing smile.
The young girl looked away.
That look made her more than uncomfortable.
It knew too much.
They said nothing further of this, Leandra had not been wrong; they had many things to do before the wedding, many matters to attend to.
It would not do to fall behind; Izzy's family trusted her to remember her place as a member of the court.
She had to remember that.
She needed to keep up.
IOI
Hightown was almost as busy as the Viscount's keep. Merchants had flooded the market place; goods from Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, and even Rivain were peddled to the many merchants who had arrived for the big day.
The wedding of the Champion was quickly turning into quite an event. Garrett Hawke's actions during the Qunari attack were well known, perhaps more so than the Viscountess facing down the Arishok in single combat. Solona might have defeated the Qunari leader, but it was Hawke who had preserved the nobles who had been threatened by the ox-man's warriors.
No one in Kirkwall had forgotten that fact.
Of course, noble and merchants was not the only people interested in this event. As with most things, not everyone in Kirkwall supported House Amells continued strength and prosperity.
There were always those who thought to end it.
One such man was leaning against a pillar, not far from the Viscount's keep, eating a caramel apple.
There was nothing about him that attracted people's attention, but that was the whole point. Stanley had risen through the ranks of the Winters mercenary company as both spy and assassin.
Few noticed him unless he wanted them to, and by the time they did.
It was too late.
He glanced idly around him, he had been waiting a long time to receive word from Lady Neria, the elven blood mage had been his handler and patron since Lord Daylen had fallen almost two years ago.
Stanley shook his head.
Working for Death's Hand, as many had called Lord Daylen, had been alright, but it had been under Lady Neria's command that he had hit his stride.
The letter that had come to his dead drop had been a bit mysterious, he was to meet a young Ferelden woman here, and tell her what he had found out about both House Amell and House Poole.
Why the agent of his mistress would be interested about the new Pooles was beyond him, but he had learned long ago that it was not smart to ask too many questions.
The nobles had their games, just as he had his.
It was best to stay out of their way.
He had been here for almost an hour when he saw her. Many of the nobles looked at her with disdain as she passed her threadbare clothes, her rough skin and blond hair.
Stanley smiled.
The girl was not so different than many Ferelden refugees that had washed up here after the Blight. Personally, he liked dealing with the Fereldans; they had nothing to lose here and everything to gain.
That made them good allies, good, and disposable.
"Miss?" he sat offering her small bow.
"It is milady, actually," she corrected him.
"My apologies," he said bowing again, "I forget how quickly gold tarnishes."
She smiled recognizing the code words.
"Power doesn't," she said back, "That is why I choose to deal in it."
He smiled; the girl knew his mistress' code. That meant she was for real.
"I'm Stanley," he said, "What can I do for you?"
She smiled; a strange violet flicker came to her eyes.
It made him pause.
He recognized that light, he had seen it before.
Oh Maker.
She grinned savagely.
"My name is Molly," she said, "At least for now."
"You have another in mind?"
"That depends on what you have found," the girl said.
"Tell me, my friend," she purred, "What do you know about Henri Poole and his family."
Again dark magic flickered in the girl's eyes.
"Let's start with his daughter, the girl, Esmeralda."
"Tell me, everything."