A Trial of Faith: Havard's Pride
By: Ryu Niiyama
Small note this series takes place after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts but before the end of Inquisition and Trespasser. Essentially the Trial of Faith series takes place alongside the game.
As usual French, and Elvish take a beating.
The Marquise of the Dales strode though the southern halls of The Winter Palace, assessing the remaining repairs required to return the former pride of House Valmont to its place as a jewel in the Empress' crown. Empress Celene had already given Briala free run of the palace in all but name and Briala aimed to make use of the boon. The nobles would deem it a slap in the face to an unsuspecting and uncultured Elvhen, but Briala saw it for the gift that it was. She knew that when the humans returned it would be to a Winter Palace under Elvhen control, but still in possession of the Empire. Deigning it neutral ground, Celene would maintain her residence in Val Royaux to aid the Inquisition in the rebuilding of Orlais and the Chantry. While the rumors stated that Celene was no longer in control and was propped up by the Inquisition, she played the Game as skillfully as ever, manipulating and ultimately crushing her enemies while using the recent political upheaval to champion the Orleasian Elvhes. Although she left Val Royaux at Celene's command, Briala's focus was on cementing her place as indispensable within the Valmont Court.
It would seem in gaining the Empress with the strength to spearhead change for the Elvhes, Briala had lost any chance of regaining the beloved that her foolish heart ached for. As usual, the Game granted Briala a step forward and two backwards when it came to drawing Celene close. Celine had been kind, yet there was a cool distance that remained between them. The Lioness never insulted her Marquise with falsehoods and platitudes, yet any attempt to speak of the tension between them; the frisson of longing that arced like lightning between them, was met with deflection or a dismissal. Yet she could feel Celene's gaze upon her, the haughtiness of the Empress gave way to the righteous passion of a lover. In rare moments she could see the gentle heart Celene had shielded from the Game, always eager to please and surprisingly hesitant.
Yet Celene's dismissal of the truth that burned between them hurt Briala terribly. The Marquise thought she knew what a broken heart felt like; how different she found the feeling to be when she was not the one wielding rejection. She had to fight the urge to lapse into sorrow and mire in her abject misery, knowing that she needed to be at her best to play the Game. If she rose to a position that Celene could not ignore, using the power that the Empress herself had granted her to become an immutable ally, then Celene would not be able to push her away. Briala felt a flash of guilt for seeking to manipulate Celene into facing her heart, but she would not be deterred. These were the rules that Celene had set, and the Game was always a matter of survival…for both the Elvhen people and Briala's heart.
Briala would claim victory for them both, or die in the attempt.
The former spymaster thought of how close she'd come to losing Celene's heart to another. The elf-blooded Evelyn Trevelyan had been the first to truly capture Celene's gaze. Even now the threat she posed was not wholly dismissed; Evelyn promised to give Celene time to prepare her heart. If Briala failed in restoring Celene's heart, the Elf-blood noble would be there to pick up the pieces. The thought of them tangled in silken sheets, Trevelyan's filthy hands sullying Celene's pristine form haunted her. Yet it was the thought of a life shared, joys and burdens faced together, without fear or reproach that tore Briala to pieces. Yet before she could handle the threat to her heart, she had to take care of the threats to her people and to Celene's rule.
Celene brought peace to an ungrateful Orlais and the military chafed under her dreams of an enlightened and prosperous Orlais. Even amidst the turmoil of the end times, the enemies of the Elvhes were still many. Most Orleasians refused to acknowledge the horrible treatment of her people and the staggering inequality of Orlais. Instead, they were willing to pretend that the Elvhen needed human rule for their happiness, that any scraps of dignity and social standing that they were allowed uplifted them and was far better than the "savagery" of the wandering Dalish. The nobles maintained that any Elvhen that wanted freedom, true freedom was an enemy of the Empire and deserving of nothing but disdain if not death. The common humans were in some ways worse.
They didn't care for the plight of the Elvhes, believing that poor humans hand it worse and were being ignored for Elvhen interests or that the lies of the nobles had some merit and that the Elvhes somehow deserved their unjust treatment. How quickly, humans forgot their own history, for before humanity toppled the Elvhes they had inflicted their cruelty upon their own. It was only the Lioness' carefully constructed but still benevolent dealings with the Elvhes that kept Orlais from regressing into outright hostility towards its Elvhen citizens. She didn't understand how an inability to acknowledge cruelty could seep so deeply into the humans. They had even extended their absurdity to claiming that their actions were due to a love of Orlais and that humanity was being denied the right to be proud of its culture and heritage.
Briala didn't know what was worse, the humans that hurt and abused Elvhen physically or those that now attempted to play the victim, pretending that somehow focus on Elvhen interests and safety was racist. Truly Celine was a gem among pebbles; the Empress was not perfect by any means, but she saw people for what they were. If Celine was cruel, it was never because of what a person's race was, but rather what they did. Yet she didn't fall into the pretentious sludge of thinking that she could see beyond race, in fact she acknowledged it and doing so was what made her so good at the Game. She researched cultural and physiological differences, and pressed her advantage when manipulating or aiding others. The former spymaster felt a blush heat her cheeks as she remembered the ways that Celine had acknowledged and delighted in the differences between them. Over their long association she'd ferreted out all of Briala's habits and quirks and what Briala had attempted to dismiss as a fetish or a master's possessiveness had been revealed for what it truly was.
Devotion.
Briala lost herself in memories of warm smiles and reckless escapes from the palace grounds. She remembered crowns of roses and Andraste's grace and nights of gazing at the stars. Her heart ached with memories of passion shared, almost anywhere and any way Celene desired…she nothing more than a helpless servant of her Lioness' gentle ferocity. Their early courtship had been blissful without the weight of the Game yet weighing them down. Still, Briala was buoyed by the thoughts of warm, comforting embraces, and reverent whispers; tones that should have been reserved for the Maker alone…how had she never realized? How had she never seen Celene's soul laid bare…for her, only for her?
She'd convinced herself that Celene had used her, but she knew now it was just a pretty excuse to give her the strength she needed to stand against the one her heart yearned to protect. For all of the privilege her stations in life had brought her, she was still a second class citizen and she had learned long ago not to entertain thoughts of a lifetime of love. Yet, as marred as it was, she now understood that Celene had offered her exactly that. A night of truths spoken within these very walls had unmasked Celine's true intent yet it had been too much for the Empress and too soon. Now Celene had retreated, recoiled from what they shared, leaving Briala aching with a yearning she hadn't realized she still had the heart to feel.
There had to be a way to reach Celene, some way to prove to the Empress that she could be entrusted with her heart once again. Perhaps this time would be different… perhaps that Orlais that Celene dreamed of could give Briala a wife instead of a mistress. The thought of such an unobtainable dream made reality fueled Briala's determination. Even if she had to twist the Game to undermine the walls Celene had built she would gladly do so if it gave her a chance to present her heart.
Only now there was a usurper, a thief hiding in the shadows, waiting for Briala to fail. This Evelyn Trevelyan…the elf-blooded bastard noble of the Trevelyan family. Just powerful enough to give her access to Celine, but not enough to incite the ire of the Orleasian court but the country lord was adored by her servants, a trait refreshing enough to garner her the Lioness' ear. Yet Briala could see greater ambition than a mere throne hidden in the elf-blood's verdant eyes. She recognized a kindred spirit in Celene and desired her for herself. If Briala didn't head the country lord off at the pass she would lay claim to Celene's heart before the other players of the game could regroup fast enough to counter her. The players of The Game had long wanted Celene's Elvhen lover gone, yet none had been able to determine Briala's identity. Still, her ascension to nobility, no matter how minor, could reveal her past if one looked hard enough.
Briala knew that was part of the reason for Celene's enforced distance between them, but her latest rejection was more than that. "I want you to leave, Briala." The former spymaster clutched her stomach as it churned with the poison of her moonlight's words. Celene had not answered Briala's challenge to the love between them, but the rejection spoke of something else. It was the one thing that Celene could never bear to do, parting from Briala was like cutting off a limb to the Empress. She had released Briala once for her safety, and in hindsight, the former spymaster realized that even her ploy to unseat Celene from her throne would not have granted her the leverage for her freedom unless Celene herself granted it…or died by her hand.
Even then, Celene expressed in no uncertain terms that their separation was not something that she wanted. To have her deliberately demand that Briala relinquish her rightful place by Celene's side was more telling than any other declaration. Celene could have expressed hatred or disgust for Briala and the Elvhen would have merely acknowledged the complexity of their relationship. After all, she had hated Celene even as she loved her beyond life itself. Celene was truly her everything; her sovereign, her beloved, her closest friend…her greatest enemy.
Celene was hers, and Briala would prove it.
Quickly, her agile mind shifted to the matters at hand. Despite what some of the court thought, Celene didn't grant her a title out of sentiment; if Briala was to truly champion the Elvhen people on the grand stage then she would have to prove their worth to the Empire. The lands of the Dales would have to be an asset to the Lioness and Briala would see it done to her last breath. She had ordered housing to be built to allow Elvhen refugees to have a place of safety. In time, once the dust of civil war and the shattered sky settled, there would be new Elvhen settlements erected in the din of the chaos that plagued Thedas. The laborers had been hired by Briala's hand and she had ordered a small school house as well as a training hall to also be created. When Orlais called upon her Elvhen citizens there would be a trained, educated militia ready and waiting. For once human disdain of her people worked in her favor, as the majority of the refugees were Elvhen. Yet there had been an unexpected number of Elf-bloods and even mixed couples that had also sought the Dales as their own home.
It had been something that Briala had ignored for most of her fight for Elvhen equality, yet nights pouring over laws that Celene had enacted in her absence had shown that Celene had considered such forbidden love and the possible offspring. They had been seemingly small things; the Chevaliers no longer required noble sponsorship or a title to join their ranks. Houses could be purchased without a writ showing the buyer's linage and the University had been opened to all. While these laws didn't mean that the involved organizations always honored them, it did mean that they could be severely punished or fined if they didn't. Many a banker or Chevalier family had already been ruined by the high fines or a draft into the front lines of the army to "restore" tarnished honor. The taxes of such fines had been redirected to a fund that Briala had full control over as an investment in the cultivation of the Dales.
Perhaps because a child between them was impossible, Briala had ignored such avenues of possible social reform, but Celene's attention to it spoke to the kindness of the Lioness' heart. Yet there was no one more calculating than Celene…did she have another goal beyond merely uplifting the Elvhen people? For a moment Briala let herself dream, with her newfound nobility she would have legal standing with which to court Celene openly. While rare, past Emperors and Empresses of Orlais had obtained heirs through adoption. With Gaspard and Florianne out of the picture, Celene had no other blood contenders to the throne. The Valmont line was hers to shape as she pleased. Did Celene, with her hidden, devoted heart, dream of a day that Briala could stand by her side honestly? Did she dream of perhaps sponsoring Elvhen and human children to continue her legacy?
Briala squeezed her eyes shut, dismissing the fantasy before it consumed her. Celene had expected that once an heir was named, that Briala would kill her. Surely the spymaster was reading too much into Celene's actions. Perhaps she had some leverage over a noble family with her laws…something more tangible than an impossible family would be more logical. Surely, Celene wasn't foolish enough to even entertain such an outlandish motive. Yet there had been a fleeting moment between them as Briala guided Celene across the dance floor that allowed all the animosity and mistrust to drift away. One, fleeting moment where Briala had simply shared a dance with the human woman that nearly drove her to madness with love and longing and in that moment Celene's brilliant eyes had burned with that same love. Briala twitched as hope whispered at her spine; love frail that it was, was not logical. Perhaps after she'd given Celene a little more time to think, to come to realize that walking away from her was the last thing that either of them needed to be whole…
"-This place is a mess. You'll have your work cut out for you Marquise."
The former spymaster turned towards the voice, a knife flying smoothly from her outstretched arm as she did so. The spymaster frowned as the knife bounced harmlessly off of a shield that bore the crest of house Trevelyan. Instantly recognizing the crest, the minute horror at having been caught off-guard ignited in to pure annoyance and anger at seeing the hated elf-blood before her. "Creators! What do you want? And where are my guards?"
The country lordling smiled rakishly as she rubbed the back of her neck with a drakeskin gauntleted hand. "Sorry about that Marquise, but they'll have a bit of a headache in a few hours. Don't take it personally." Briala hummed softly and moved with careful poise towards the intruder. Warm verdant eyes became brittle pine in mere moments as her sword appeared in her hand in a flash, the deadly silverite easily leveled at Briala. "Please, don't insult us both, I know about the dagger you are reaching for behind your back, and the knife you haven't thrown yet on your left wrist as well. I know you think me an idiot, but don't let mar solas ena mar din."
Briala paused, quickly reassessing the scion of the Trevelyan House as the fractured language of the Elvhen flowed from her lips. A lordling brute shouldn't have been able to make it past her guards, let alone have been able to sneak up on her. Yet this was also the daughter of an Elvhen, just as she was, her heritage displayed in eyes too vivid to be human. Now that she thought about it, without out her jealousy clouding her thoughts, it seemed odd that such a minor noble would have gotten so close to the Empress so quickly. Crossing her arms with narrowed, dangerous eyes Briala stared the noblewoman down, who didn't seem fazed by it in the slightest. Waggling her eyebrows, Trevelyan returned her blade to her sheath yet she didn't even gasp in shock as Briala quickly closed the distance between them. With an assassin's ease, the armored noble caught the knife that should have plunged into her unprotected throat and wrenched Briala's arm painfully behind her even as she slammed the Elvhen asha into the nearby wall, knocking the wind out of her.
"You know you are beautiful when you are angry. Shh, be still Marquise. I may not be fully Elvhen like you but I promise you that while I inherited the larger build of a human, I also possess the denser musculature of an Elvhen, and unlike you I've trained to maximize my strength. You won't break my hold."
Briala attempted to squirm, furious that she couldn't move an inch beneath the weight and strength of the elf blood behind her. "So, do you intend to add rapist to your list of terrible qualities?" Trevelyan pressed her weight a little harder on Briala briefly, strangling what little air she could sip into her lungs and for a moment she wondered if such depravity was actually the reason Trevelyan had come here in the first place. Before fear could begin its crawl up her spine, the unyielding hold was gone and the elf-blood had moved away.
"You attacked me; and I did warn you. Besides, a Lady's sweetness is worth nothing if not given freely. Which of course, would be the reason why I never tried to court you, beautiful as you are. For someone that claims that the Empress is her sworn enemy, you most certainly pine quite openly for her."
Ignoring the barb, Briala turned while rubbing her wrist and she glared fiercely at the noblewoman, but she didn't move to attack her again. "So, who sent you?" The Marquise kept her voice deadpan even as she scanned Trevelyan for some hint of her true allegiance. The noblewoman cleared her throat and waggled her eyebrows. "My eyes are up here Marquise." Briala's annoyance only seemed to increase the elf-blood's mirth. "Lady Nightingale sends her regards." Not bothering to hide her surprise, the Marquise's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "You don't seem like the type that she usually employs." Trevelyan's grin didn't lessen but something darkened in her eyes, something resolute and sinister that made Briala's ears twitch. The noblewoman shrugged nonchalantly, setting Briala's teeth on edge. "I have my uses. Sometimes the best way to perform cloak and dagger is with a hammer." Briala frowned at the spy's point but she didn't refute her, either. Considering that it had worked quite well, as Briala had dismissed Trevelyan as nothing more than a bumbling idiot riding off her bloodline, she had to concede the point. The noblewoman obviously had many masks; that those masks were made of flesh and bone made her that much more dangerous.
The Marquise kept her gaze even despite feeling like she was staring down a viper. If she gave ground now the Game would fall completely into Trevelyan's favor, and she couldn't allow that. Summoning every ounce of haughty poise she had learned from Celene, the Marquise looked at the taller asha as if she was nothing more than a bug at her feet. "Very well, you've obviously come here for a reason. What does your Mistress want?" The dismissal should be enough to catch Trevelyan off guard, yet the noblewoman merely burst out laughing. Confused, Briala stared at her and she tried to stamp down her irritation, knowing that was what Trevelyan wanted.
"We are dealing with the end times here Marquise. I don't have time for the games you Orleasians like to play. Celene is digging into something. She has been provoking various nobles…most of them known Elvhen haters…" The noblewoman pulled out a dossier and handed it to Briala. The spymaster looked over it, seeing the various families that Celene was targeting, many of them already tagged within Briala's surveillance network. Yet this was too much too soon, it was too brash…yet there didn't seem to be repercussions. That in itself was strange, Briala had heard no hints of discord beyond the usual bickering of the nobles; even the civil war was nothing more than a distant memory now that Celene had cemented her rule.
There should have been something, some attempt to take advantage, or to draw closer to Celene. How had she not noticed this before? Celene was a masterful manipulator for malicious or benevolent intent both, but even she wasn't this pervasive in bending Orlais to her will. This was almost…unnatural.
"You have an expressive face Marquise; you are lucky to be Orleasian where you can hide that most of the time. But I see that you are drawing the same conclusions that I am. The Empress has been working diligently to prove that she cannot be unseated, and while that is normal for a ruler that just fended off a coup… the issue is how easily the people are falling in line. She is culling whole swaths of families, stripping them of wealth and title, and the nobles aren't demanding her head. That is quite curious, don't you think?"
"There is a giant hole in the sky, the people need stability." There was some merit to the excuse, but Briala knew it was a lie the moment the words formed upon her lips. Something was wrong. She kept reading the dossier as Trevelyan offered no comment. "She's allowed Morrigan to assist the Inquisition?" Celene's reliance upon the apostate mage had been a particular annoyance to Briala since her appearance. Briala at times chalked that up to jealously of a sort; Morrigan was close to Celene in a way similar to Briala's former role, and even in the gowns of the court she'd exuded a sort of raw sexuality that made Briala nervous. Devoted as she may be, Celene was a beautiful woman with a passionate nature; how long would she keep vows only made to herself, without Briala's love to affirm them?
Many nobles felt that their station in life meant that they could use people and discard them like refuse, but Celene had never been such a person. She might have suffered from the arrogance that her station, beauty and power had granted from time to time, but she was never cruel for the sake of it. Even when ordering the deaths of Briala's people. Celene had her own concept of her manifest destiny, but she never believed that she was beyond reproach. That was what made Briala's punishment of Celene so effective. Any other ruler would have been more angry at having their authority challenged, but Celene had always felt the loss of Briala's love keenly.
Despite her flirting to distract the men of court and even her offer of marriage to Cailen, an empty promise given Anora's popularity that would've only demonstrated Celene's sincerity, Celene had been as loyal as a bride to Briala. The Lioness' loyalty had long been a source of warped pride and dismay for Briala. If Celene wasn't bedding every woman that batted her eyelashes at her, then there may have been some truth in her professions of love. Now that Briala knew the absolute truth of the Empress' love, Celene's abstinence was only a painful reminder of the needless distance between them as Briala longed to stand by her moonlight's side once again. Morrigan had never been able to work her charms on Celene, but from an intellectual stand point, her knowledge of forbidden magic had seduced Celene's mind just as surely as a lover. For Celene to be willing to send Morrigan away…even as an aid to the Inquisition was odd. Was there something in Skyhold that Celene wanted…or did she send Morrigan away for a different reason?
Briala cursed her lack of familiarity with magic beyond security barriers. She would need to get answers and soon. If whatever Celene's plan was had gone on long enough that an outside spy had noticed, that meant that they were all several steps behind. Briala's mind flashed back to the night Celene stood alone addressing the nobles of the Winter Palace, all of her guard noticeably too far away. If Florriane hadn't been stopped by the Inquisitor…Briala shuddered to think what could have happened. Yet those actions meant that Celene was making a statement…she was proving that she was strong enough to rule unchecked and that she feared no dissent. Considering that her rule had been rife with rumor and discontent from the more military minded nobles who thought her weak because she wasn't a warmonger, Celene couldn't make such a stand as an empty gesture. Briala closed the dossier and tucked it under her arm, not surprised when the noblewoman didn't protest.
"So, what are you proposing…a truce?"
"Were we at war, Marquise? I've already told you, you are the one to temper her. You've let her send you away, which means that now that she doesn't have to deal with Orlais falling down around her she can do whatever she likes without the voice of reason in her ear…your voice." Briala's face clouded, pensive and frustrated at the earnest implication in Trevelyan's voice. The weight of it made her feel like she'd failed somehow.
"Some would say I am the voice that would tempt her to evil."
The blundering idiot act faded instantly and Briala felt a slight qualm in her soul as she looked into the elf-blood's determined eyes. "No. In love the worst voice a lonely heart can listen to is her own. She needs the truth, from you. Celene feels the weight of your relationship more than you may realize. More than her spymaster your very existence guides her conscience. Why else would she be so desperate to build an Orlais where Elvhes were equal? Because the one cornerstone to her life is Elvhen. You have been by her side since you were both children. Did you not think that would shape her view of the world? She fell in love with you…did you not think that her heart would rally against the fact that the world saw you as less? She allowed you to betray her and she even let you go. You know the Game, had you cuckholded anyone else, you wouldn't be standing here right now." Trevelyan pointed an accusatory finger at Briala and the Elvhen tried not to shrink under its implied weight. "How rare that is…to be willing to burn down the world and make a new one to see the one you love happy. But Celene knows people and the world. Even with the changes that she has made, she will die long before she can bring true change to fruition…if ever. Yet she is pushing…harder than before…what did she discover? What has she done?"
The Marquise bristled not so much because the elf-blood was wrong, but because she apparently saw these things before Briala herself did. She had wasted too much time, and by the time she'd realized that Celene needed her to take her rightful place, her moonlight had mustered up the strength to reject her. She felt trepidation churn in her gut, sour and ruinous and she sneered at Trevelyan in annoyance.
"Did she tell you that?"
Trevelyan sighed in annoyance, but a wistful smile tugged at her lips briefly. Briala hated how her piercing eyes seemed to cut through the pretense of her anger. "She didn't have to, Marquise…I have eyes. Look, I'm going to make my report. If I have to come back, it won't be just to talk. Fix this. I'll not see Celene become a monster because you are too afraid to meet her love head on. Good evening, Marquise."
Trevelyan bowed and walked away, as quietly as she came, and Briala watched her stride into the shadows with pensive eyes. Briala knew that the elf-blood noblewoman's threat was not an empty one. If Celene did turn into something…terrible, then the Nightingale would convince the Inquisitor to intervene. If anyone was free enough to topple a ruler from its throne, it was the Inquisition, backed by divine decree and loyal to no country. Briala could manipulate the likes of Gaspard with ease because she knew the ruleset within which he operated, but the Inquisitor was a wild card. The Qunari Adaar was both almost impossibly gentle and ruthless…in some ways she reminded Briala of Celene, but unlike the Lioness she was not shackled by the throne and the Grand Game of Orlais. Briala would have to act quickly and find out what was going on in Val Royaux, for she wasn't sure if she could protect Celene if the Inquisition set its sights on ending her life. Her thoughts now a thundercloud of worry, the former spymaster picked up the knife that Trevelyan had deflected and returned it to her sheath.
Quickly, the Marquise strode to her customary rooms within the Winter Palace. A room large enough to be a guest room for a visiting noble, yet due to it being within the same wing as the Empress' rooms, it had always been given to Briala. Even with the change of their roles, Briala couldn't bear to give up this small tether to the woman she loved. "By the Creators, all of this education and we are both idiots. Celene what have you gotten yourself into?" The former spymaster murmured wistfully to herself as she entered the chambers and headed to her desk. She didn't bother to light a candle, as she knew this room with familiar intimacy. She put away the dossier Travelyan had given her, and turned to go to see to her guards. Briala paused as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and she reached for her daggers. She heard the familiar hiss of a well-oiled sword sliding from its sheath and she tried to wince as a match was struck and a candle lit near the back of the room. Standing next to her bed was a face she'd hoped she'd never see again.
"So the Empress' pet turned out to be nothing more than a submissive bitch in the end. What happened to "change" Briala? You'd rather rule from lying on your back than standing on your feet?" Briala locked eyes with the Elvhen she had intended to conveniently send to her death and take the secret of her sexual ties to Celene to her grave. The Elvhen had likely been saved by the idealistic Inquisitor, who wouldn't have known that it wasn't just what she knew that prompted Briala to betray her. If there had been a dagger at her back it had not been anyone other than this particular former acquaintance. Annoyed, the Marquise mentally tossed what little respect Trevelyan had earned out the window. The idiot boar of a spy had incapacitated too many of Briala's guards, allowing her current problem to walk right in. She made a mental note to break her nose if she survived this mess.
She scanned the room and counted four guards, all large human men, although they wore no armor. Briala wasn't sure if she should be insulted by the implication or not. If this fool thought her soft, then she would find out that the reason Briala served as spymaster to the Valmont Empire for so long was not because she shared the Lioness' bed.
"Get her."
Briala moved as soon as the other Elvhen exhaled the breath to form her words, ducking under a sloppy bear grab and driving her elbow into the man's solar plexus before back handing him to the floor. The others hadn't expected that, and she used their momentary surprise to dive for the doors. Grateful for her small statue, Briala slipped through the door before her attackers could give chase and she sprinted down the hall. She needed to get to her armory or at least get into an open area. Those men were too large, too strong and if she was forced to fight them in cramped quarters they'd eventually overwhelm her. She could hear a furious shriek echo from her bedchambers as her escape enraged her attacker.
"What am I paying you for?! GET HER!"
What little sense of victory Briala felt, evaporated as another man stepped into the hall in front of her and the doors behind her slammed open as bootsteps pounded after her. Briala skid to her knees and leaned back, unsheathing her blades and slashing at the man's knees, thighs and shins in three quick strokes on either side, crippling him. He toppled with a howl, likely unaware that she'd gotten his femoral arteries as well, and the former spymaster used her slowing momentum to lean forward into a roll that allowed her to push to her feet. She couldn't double back now so she would have to turn and fight, but not here. Steeling herself, the spymaster angled her run towards the nearest window and crashed through it, thankful that she was on the ground floor. Rolling clear of her escape, she sprang to her feet and let fly two of her knives behind her without looking. The former spymaster smirked, pleased as they found purchase in a man's chest, his gurgling scream flowing easily to her ears.
She sprinted to the nearest courtyard and stood her ground, morbidly amused as she watched the Elvhen leader stumble through the broken window with a curse. Shrieking in absolute rage, the other Elvhen rushed Briala, locking blades with her. The former spymaster allowed it so that the sounds of their battle would corral the other brutes around her. If they thought her unable to fend off one of her own and an asha at that, they would grow lax, chalking her earlier kills up to luck rather than skill. Besides, she wanted to deal with this annoyance personally.
"You played revolution with the lives of your people. We died for your lover's quarrel and for what? You ended up whoring yourself anyway!"
Briala's eyebrow quirked as annoyance flared irrationally; here she was defending her life and all she could truly focus on was the sting of the insult. This asha was an Elvhen, just as she was and yet she would kill anyone Elvhen or human to make her goals a reality. Had Briala's own convictions drifted close to this? She had sparked a war with no care of the humans that died, forgetting the that Elvhen would be caught in the middle and the few humans that had done nothing to the Elvhen…even those that had called an Elvhen their beloved just as Trevelyan's father did. How cruel this world was that to exact justice she would have to become a monster. With a cry, she kicked her attacker away and ducked under her swipe before driving one of her daggers into the other Elvhen's heart. Betrayal and confusion filled the dying asha's eyes as she breathed her last on Briala's blade.
By now the dead Elvhen's thugs had circled Briala and she used the dead asha as a partial shield as she assessed them over the corpse's shoulder. There were too many of them and the daggers that she wielded weren't enough to keep all their blades from her throat. Yet there was an ugly darkness in these human men's eyes, they aimed to impart a lesson to an Elvhen they believed forgot her place, both as an asha and as a non-human. She shuddered as she realized that more than arrogance led the men to wear no armor and she realized the message that the dead Elvhen was trying to send…not to Briala herself but to Celene. What would her Lioness do when given the news of her former lover beaten to death and taken cruelly by brutish thugs? She couldn't allow such a thing to come to pass for both of their sakes.
Steeling her courage, she pushed the corpse from her blade and began to move. Time slowed to a crawl as she lunged towards one of the brutes, and it was only the hyper focus that defending one's life brings that allowed her to abort her movements and throw her body to the ground. She'd felt the arrow before she saw it as it pierced the thug's throat, and Briala winced in confusion as she heard the same rapid fire thwacks all around her before her aborted lunge deposited her to the ground with a whump of air.
Quickly she turned to her back, raising her dagger in expectation of an attack, only to find nothing but dead bodies all around her. Trembling as the adrenaline pumped through her system, the asha rose and looked over the nearest corpse briefly. Her eyes alighted upon the thick shaft of the arrow as it impaled the man's neck, piercing though his spine with macabre ease.
The arrow was designed for closer range than traditional arrows, it required a more tightly strung bow, but with proper strength one of those arrows could pierce the armor of a chevalier. Briala knew without looking that the arrow head was serrated, causing it to act as a drill. There was only one bard that she knew that favored those arrows; only one bard that feared that betrayal could come in the form of a once trusted knight. Yet it couldn't be…it was impossible for that bard to be here now.
"La Aigle…"
Briala turned in confusion and worry, ready to confront The Eagle even though she felt her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. An enraged roar broke the spell as one more brute surged into the courtyard, furious at the death of his compatriots and employer and he ran towards Briala, greataxe raised to strike. Before the man could land a blow he was tackled from behind and Briala leapt back, falling into a fighting stance. She would be severely disadvantaged against a greataxe, but her speed and agility would be a boon. The Eagle toppled the man, but both quickly recovered and rolled to their feet with ease. Pristine white vestments flowed in the crisp night air as the bard leapt and parried the man's attacks. Briala couldn't risk joining in as both fighters were moving too quickly, if she made a mistake she could hit the Eagle instead.
Briala paused for a moment, as she watched the bard's movements. The inherent grace, the strength that defied the delicate form that wielded death like an instrument was easy to see. This woman was death's muse and only one woman in all of Thedas could bear such a mantle. Celene's defeat at Gaspard's hands…at Briala's hands, had ignited a flame within the Empress. Celene had detested Lady Mantilion's lessons, only learning enough that she could train Briala to protect herself. As such Briala had quickly surpassed her lover in dagger and bow skill, but a betrayal that left her spymaster and her bodyguard willing to turn their backs upon her, had impressed a need to become her own Champion.
It took years of spying to find that the Lioness had died the day that Michel de Chevin had yielded to Gaspard. Years to find that La Aigle had taken her place. That was why Celene's current court was so weak, Briala knew this, but in combination with her newfound aggressiveness in The Grand Game meant that the Eagle had finally grown strong enough to hunt. With white and grey with rich crimson lining the cloak, the Eagle, an animal more dangerous than the Lion, defended the Marquise of the Dales. For the first time in her life, Briala felt some manner of fear towards Celene and the motif she'd chosen; for no one could predict when the Eagle would rain death from above. This strength and ruthlessness was more deliberate than the Lioness or the Empress of Flame could ever be for it was purely Celene's and hers alone.
Briala gasped as a clearing swipe form the thug's greataxe cut a band against the bard's armored robes as she was knocked to the ground. Using her momentum, the Eagle maneuvered into a backwards handspring, launching a dagger that found purchase in one of the man's thickly muscled thighs. With an animalistic snarl, so unlike the woman that Briala knew, the Eagle rushed the man, ducking his attempt to knock her away again as her blade struck true. The Eagle thrust her dagger into the final bandit's throat, snarling as she pressed it with all her might deeper into the already dead man's flesh. She drove his corpse to the ground, the man's body bent back in a way that he would not have been able to achieve in life, his skull smacking sickly against the earth.
Briala had never seen Celene like this. The Eagle wore white because of her confidence in her skill in battle. Swift, decisive, devastating strikes were her trademark and as such, blood rarely fell upon her person. Yet this had been a massacre, Blood splattered all over Celene as she killed with a rage and frantic fury that had shaken even Briala's battle hardened nerves. This is what she could drive Celene to, this was the truth of her love. She remembered the words shouted in this very palace not so long ago: "I can't let you go again! Don't you see? If you let me have you, I shall never let you go!..." There was a beautiful, dark desperation in her words that Briala hadn't understood until now. She had believed that the Eagle had been born so that the Lioness never needed to fear betrayal again. Yet perhaps that was only part of it…perhaps the Eagle was born to wield the strength that the Lioness didn't have…the strength to claim and protect and keep the Fox that she had given her heart to.
Panting, the Eagle turned her masked face towards Briala, the bloodstained blackened silverite doing little to hide ice blue eyes that nearly glowed under the moonlight. There was something primal and majestic in her fierce gaze…yet there was a frenzy akin to bloodlust that made the Marquise grip her blades tighter. Perhaps she was mistaken, perhaps this was not Celene after all and instead some agent sent by her to protect Briala. Her eyes flickered down to the dagger, still clutched in the Eagle's hand, the bard half perched upon her kill even as she angled her body towards Briala as if to offer it like a grisly prize.
Like a Lioness offering a fresh kill to her mate.
The bard rose smoothly and walked slowly towards Briala and the former spymaster couldn't help herself as she took a step back. The Eagle paused at this, and those intense eyes filled with bleak sadness at her response. "…Briala…?" The word clawed its way out of The Eagle's throat as if she hadn't spoken in a hundred years, and Briala felt the terror that was slowly taking hold seep away. She knew that voice, and if the woman that wielded it hadn't been lost to bloodletting and carnage then there was still some hope. Slowly sheathing her blades, the Marquise walked towards the Eagle- Celene- and was relieved that while Celene didn't move towards her, she didn't move away either.
"Celene." For the former handmaiden the word had always been a thousand different things at once; A benediction, a curse, a lament. Now it was plea: 'Don't go. Stay. Stay here with me. Be with me'. Celene let out a hushed whimper, not quite free of the grip of a battle hard fought and won and Briala reached up to touch her mask. "Celene." The Empress of Orlais nodded imperceptibly and stooped slightly so that Briala could remove her mask and hood with ease. The human didn't move to touch her, but Briala could still feel her lean into her touch. She gasped as Celene's face was revealed, the radiant empress' beautiful visage sharpened with the death she could now wield so easily. Briala spared a thought to Trevelyan and her own suspicions, but instinctively Briala knew that Celene's actions were her own this night. Their eyes met, and Briala felt as if she were caught within the eye of a maelstrom, the intensity of Celene's gaze lapping at her soul like wildfire.
Celene leaned forward, her body heat setting Briala ablaze, but she didn't bridge the gap between them as she hovered, waiting for something. Briala's nose flared and for a moment she spared a moment of gratitude to the Creators for her Elvhen sense of smell. Even with the sickly carnage of death all around them, she could smell Celene…a warm scent that meant home, and love and passion and even anger…but most importantly it was hers…her comfort, her human, her lover. Briala was grateful for Celene's respectful heart, but that wasn't what she needed right now and she pressed forward, moaning as their lips met. She fisted her hands in the lapel of the Eagle's robes and pulled her closer only to pull away as if she'd been burned as Celene stiffened in pain. Immediately her eyes raked over the damaged and bloodstained clothing of the woman before her and without a second thought she grasped Celene's hand and tugged her towards the courtyard doors.
The Empress of Orlais followed docilely behind her, the Eagle and Lioness now nothing more than a lamb, her hand warm within Briala's grip. Briala led her to the royal bathing chamber for once thankful for the almost obscenely large magic powered oasis that Celene had had built here not long after she claimed her throne. Briala removed two wash basins and filled them with warm water before turning to attend to Celene. The Empress had drawn in upon herself, as if there was some sort of disconnect from her earlier actions and now. Briala smoothed her hands over Celene's upper chest and shoulders, drawing as much comfort as she gave from their solid connection.
"Stay here, ma vhenan. I shall return soon."
The Eagle nodded and Briala moved to the hallway. She nearly startled when her second stepped out from the shadows. "Elise, there you are. I trust you've recovered from your enforced slumber?" Elise was an Elvhen from Rivain, with warm dark brown sugar skin, silken raven hair that fell in gentle waves to her waist and sharp violet eyes that missed very little. Briala had saved her life years ago, and as a follower of the Qun, Elise had promptly placed her life in Briala's service. The young asha had proved to be an indispensable part of the Marquise's spy network and her right hand. Elise bowed, a grimace of self-reproach twisting her features. "I am sorry to say that I was of little use to you Hahren. What happened?"
Briala snorted in grim amusement. "Too many uninvited guests. Please, strip the bodies of anything of use and have the others dispose of them. Also double the guard, but I don't wish to be disturbed tonight…I'm entertaining."
An elegant dark eyebrow rose into Elise's hairline at Briala's admission, but she bowed nonetheless in acknowledgement. "It shall be done, Hahren. Have a good evening." The dark haired Second left Briala standing in the hall without another word. Sighing softly, the Marquise turned and returned to the bathing chambers. She found Celene standing in the nude, pouring the basin of water over her body, rinsing the blood and gore that stained her pale flesh away. Briala paused and allowed herself to look upon Celene's body unimpeded. While she still looked more emaciated than Briala liked to see, it was obvious that Celene had been endeavoring to take better care of herself recently. The Empress looked much like her namesake in this moment; lithe, long-limbed, lissome muscles sheathed in delicate, pallid skin, while her ash blonde hair gleamed like liquid silver. Briala knew without seeing her face that her eyes would glitter like brilliant aquamarines. Her features were so different from Briala's, so alien, yet the Elvhen saw the beauty within them all the same.
Celene turned, clutching the basin to her chest, Briala had to bite back a gasp at the sight of her. Humans bore secondary hair, unlike Elvhen and the former spymaster snapped her eyes towards Celene's face, ignoring the siren song of the Lioness' platinum crowned mons and the hint of her breasts behind the basin. Celene smiled and carefully lowered the basin to the floor and Briala started counting backwards from a hundred in her head to keep her mind focused. The human walked towards her, as if she were attending court, her regal poise intact. When Celene stood an arm's length away she extended her hand, and Briala remembered the last time she'd done the same for her moonlight. The sexual tension left her body, and she relaxed, remembering that while Celene was her lover, the human was also her oldest friend.
Briala took the hand and she blinked back tears as Celene tugged her closer and with her other hand stroked her cheek. "Briala, are you alright?" For a moment, Briala had forgotten just why Celene was here… and why Trevelyan had come to her as well. Gathering her wits, the Marquise nodded briefly, smiling wistfully as she felt Celene's thumb ghost over her lips before returning to her cheek. "I'm fine, bad luck that. What about you?" Her eyes ghosted down to Celene's chest, noting the purple bruising that splashed over her sternum and right breast to fade at her collar bone. Celene's pale skin made her particularly susceptible to bruising, which had been one of the reasons she'd hated the combat training of becoming a bard, especially since Lady Mantillon adored painting her cruelty across Celene's body like a canvas.
Celene leaned down, ghosting a soft kiss upon Briala's brow before pulling away. "I'm fine. Come, I suspect you could use a relaxing soak." Celene gestured to the bath water that she'd run, the tubs large enough to seat two, a fact that Briala had intimately validated long ago. She blushed softly, grateful that her darker skin tone didn't flare her skin like a tomato; a particular trait that Celene detested in herself and used makeup to conceal. The rosy undertones to her dusky skin coaxed a soft smile from Celene and the human feathered a curl away from Briala's brow. Still the spymaster didn't miss that Celene was not being very forthcoming. Even without her bard skills, there was absolutely no reason for the Empress of Orlais to be visiting the Winter Palace in the middle of the night, but for both of their sakes, Briala would not press for answers just yet. Instead, her eyes flickered upon Celene's nudity once again and she grimaced as she stared at the wound Celene had incurred in protecting her.
Briala looked upon the angry wound, one hand splayed over the Empress' beating heart. Biting her lip, the brunette closed her eyes and let herself feel the beat that anchored her soul. Steady and strong, for this cadence she would do anything, she had done anything. She could have lost this; she could have lost Celene a thousand times over. Her own anger had once pointed an arrow at this heart, this simple thing that Briala would raze all of Thedas to the ground to possess. Briala felt shame…and possession. She needed to feel a different cadence of the heart beneath her hands now; she needed it to treble in a way that only she could cause. She couldn't lose this again. Consumed, Briala stepped forward, intending to kiss Celene, only to instead come up short when the human moved away smoothly. Desire curdled to dismay and frustration as she heard the sickening words of Celene's rejection echo within her soul once again...
"I want you to leave, Briala."
The former spymaster swallowed against the fear that clogged her throat and she began to remove her clothing, while Celene moved towards the tub. She could break through Celene's resistance, for she knew it was an unnecessary shield to protect Celene's bruised heart. She loved her human, and she would have her, Thedas be damned. She should have pressed her case in Val Royaux, but she would not allow Celene to stand alone, and she most certainly would not allow her to become a target of the Inquisition. Celene's unflappable demeanor rippled briefly as the sound of Briala's clothing hitting the floor ricocheted like thunder within her rounded ears. Still, she said nothing as she checked the water's temperature again and then slid into the large tub with fluid ease.
Briala sauntered to the tub, sensual confidence feathering over the desperate fear that churned within her. The Elvhen had no doubt of her beauty, but more importantly she was sure of her effect upon Celene. The Empress of Orlais presented a demeanor that was cool as a winter snow, yet Briala knew her passion burned hotter than the sun. The Last Valmont battled herself for years to craft the mask she showed to her subjects, yet she had never truly tamed her fevered blood. Briala hadn't truly understood until her Lioness had humbled herself before her within this very palace, just how easily she could shatter that mask. And now Briala wanted to obliterate that mask, to make it so that the possessive, loyal, passionate woman could never hide from her again. She couldn't stand the thought of those dead eyes staring back at her from polished glass commanding her to leave Celene's side.
Briala allowed Celene to guide her into the tub and she settled against the larger female with familiar ease, careful not to press back too hard against Celene's front. Still, she couldn't quite repress the shudder that coursed through her at the sweet press of Celene's breasts at her back and her mons at her buttocks and she had to blink to clear her head. Warm, long arms looped around her and her moonlight leaned forward, her lips ghosting against a pointed ear. "Are you alright? The water isn't too cold isn't it?" Briala sucked in a ragged breath as the warm puffs of Celene's breath against her ear surged right to her core and she wondered just who was seducing whom. "No…I'm fine. The water feels great."
Celene chuckled softly in response and leaned back and Briala found herself missing the contact. Yet she didn't have to yearn for it long as the Lioness returned her fine boned hands to Briala's shoulders and began to knead the tension there. A small part of Briala that was still the devoted Elvhen servant girl of the Empress shrieked in utter terror at the impropriety of the Empress massaging her shoulders, but Briala reminded herself that she was an asha fully grown and Celene's lover. Briala had rarely allowed Celene to tend to her, at first because she had been an unworthy servant, then to prevent such indulgences from making Celene more open to read by their enemies, and finally because she hadn't wanted Celene to pantomime caring for her.
Yet as she felt the human prodding and kneading away her weariness with unhurried attentiveness, focused entirely on caring for her rather than as a pretense for sex, she knew that'd this was another thing she would have to atone to Celene for. She felt her ardor warm to familiar affection and she settled into the touch. They spoke no further, not needing to fill the silence aside from a pleasured groan or two when Celene rooted out a particularly stubborn knot. They took turns running the soapy bath cloth across each other's skin and when they'd both deemed themselves clean they settled in the tub, content to hold and be held. Briala absently laced their fingers where their arms lay upon the tub rim, looking at their contrasting skin tones. As Celene stroked her thumb across Briala's hand and wrist, the former spymaster smiled, believing that they weren't so different after all.
They remained that way for a time, until Celene began to shift restlessly behind Briala and she knew that human was growing concerned that her skin was pruning. It seemed strange to recognize these small cues from her lover, now that she realized that there had been a deeper meaning behind them. Celene set the trend for Val Royaux's fashion and never wavered before the court. Yet Briala knew that Celene was almost obsessive about her appearance behind closed doors. Concern about her skin, the length of her hair, her weight…even her height after puberty had separated them in that respect. How had Briala not realized that it wasn't the court's approval that Celene craved, but rather her own? Amused and saddened in equal measure, Briala chuckled as she remembered the one time Celene tried to tan…
"Thinking amusing thoughts, are we?"
"Hmm, just remembering the summer you tried to get a tan."
"Ah…yes the lobster incident."
Celene had been insufferable that summer, so much so that even Lady Mantilion had left her alone while her angry, red, blistered skin had healed. She had been an absolute bear to everyone, oscillating between throwing tantrums and begging Briala to forgive her at any given moment. "Why did you do that anyway?"
Celene twitched, an unusual tell for a woman that had spent her life learning to control her body to show and say only what she intended to convey and nothing more. "I…well…you remember the cook gained a new apprentice that summer, no?" Briala scrunched up her face as she searched her memory and her mind conjured warm brown eyes and dark, sunny olive skin. "Aubrey…yes, I remember her." She also remembered that the young Elvhen had been a year older than her and that she often sent flowers with Briala's meals. Briala had a distinct memory of making the poor thing cry after Aubrey had pressed a brief kiss to her lips and confessed. Even in the squalor of forced servitude and oppressive poverty, love always found a way. Unfortunately for Aubrey, Briala's thoughts had been filled with pale blonde hair and now lobster red skin.
"You were my only friend Briala…I thought that you might want to… spend time with her instead. Especially since you were…kissing friends. But perhaps...perhaps if I looked more...familiar she would not have caught your eye so easily." It was almost hilarious, here Celene was in her third decade and yet she sounded like a jealous teenager wishing to be noticed by her beloved. Celene hadn't given much indication at the time that she'd seen Aubrey's brave attempt at courting, other than complaining about the food every chance she got until her skin returned to normal. Briala sighed and leaned back, resting her head against the Empress's shoulder and upper arm.
"Celene, lest you forget you were my first kiss when I was seven, and who rubbed the healing salve on every inch of your lobster body three times a day to help ease your pain?" Celene sniffed primly behind her, neither confirming nor denying Briala's words. Briala sobered slightly as she thought of Aubrey, as she'd been killed the same day as her parents. "Celene, I was your handmaiden, you do realize that meant that I was blamed for your mood? If you were angry, I didn't do my job, if you were happy everyone avoided me hoping that their good fortune would continue. All I truly had was you, and my parents." Celene swallowed thickly behind Briala and removed her hand from the smaller female's grasp.
"Of course. To make matters worse you were unlucky enough to have garnered the attention of your mistress." Briala flinched, angry as she could hear the old insults layered over Celene's hurt tones. The Lioness' Rabbit, The Lioness' whore, Shartan slut. The insults to her heritage and to the love that she bore Celene burned, and to hear Celene's belief in their implication stirred her rage like a cauldron. Briala exhaled slowly, knowing that anger was not the path, after all Celene was implying that she was the villain in all of this. "Celene, I didn't say that, and that is not what I was implying either." Briala rose and she smothered a smile as Celene, attentive even when hurt, assisted her so that she would not slip in the tub. Draining her features of all emotion but her concern, the former spymaster turned and kneeled before the sulking human, placing her hands on Celene's shoulders.
"Celene. You are my Empress, but you have never been my mistress. I am your lover. I didn't go to your bed, let alone allow you to be my first, because it was my duty as your handmaiden. I was your spymaster, your handmaiden and your lover…I was never your whore. And you, you were never my rapist." Celene struggled against the words, and Briala knew she ferreted out the truth, the weed that doubt had planted within Celene's heart. The Empress had spoken of the stain within Briala's love, but she'd tried to hide the poison that soured her own.
"Look at me, Celene."
Hesitant crystaline azure eyes met her impassioned hazel and Briala willed her human to understand. Celene broke the gaze first, casting her eyes to the ceiling. "Of course. I'm sorry Briala." Briala frowned briefly at the response, concerned about its sincerity, but knowing that if she prodded further she'd only push Celene away. She'd accept the olive branch for now. Carefully, she rose from the tub and extended her hand to her human, helping her towel off and ease into a night robe, the motions old habit for her. After they were both dried and dressed, Briala sat Celene on the nearby vanity bench, reaching for the brush and comb from the marble vanity. With familiar ease she tended to Celene's hair, drying it as much as possible, knowing it would look like a bird's nest later otherwise. The feel of her touch upon her hair and scalp soothed the lingering tension within the Empress and soon she returned to the calm lassitude of earlier.
When they finished, Briala led Celene to the Empress's rooms, the first location that she'd had restored upon taking up residence in the Winter Palace, and Celene smiled at the return to form. Within the moonlit room they moved as one towards the bed. "Briala, I am sorry, truly." Briala smiled as her beloved placed a feather light kiss upon her shoulder, before brushing past her softly and turning down the bed. Briala smiled beatifically and removed her robe, revealing her body to her lover. Celene stiffened slightly as she felt Briala hug her from behind, the warmth of her body seeping into her skin. The human swallowed down the fire that roared within, holding to the promise she'd made within her heart. With a wince, she clutched at her breast in pain, and Briala moved back and turned her around, all traces of ardor forgotten.
"Celene! Damnit, I should have killed that bitch twice for putting you in harm's way like this. I'll get a healer."
Celene snagged her former spymaster's wrist before she could move away and shook her head softly. "It will heal, I just want to go to sleep. Besides, I'd never live down the teasing from those in your employ." Briala paused again, feeling something was off about Celene's words, but the whisper of silk as Celene undid her robe with her free hand banished those thoughts. Celene tugged her close again and Briala's eyes alighted upon the promise of warm pale skin teased by the half opened robe. Searching aquamarine eyes for discomfort, she let out a breath that she didn't realize that she was holding and moved to divest Celene of her robe. The Empress cupped her cheek once Briala had tossed the robe aside and her former spymaster leaned into the touch, feeling the weight of their distance and misunderstandings drag down her soul. Briala surprised Celene by climbing into the bed first, facing away from the Lioness, her nude back a tantalizing invite. Amused, the human slid in behind her, molding her body to Briala's with a gentle sigh. Reaching around she pulled the covers over them and leaned forward slightly so that she could brush her lips against Briala's ear.
"Good night, Briala."
Briala shuddered in sensual delight briefly before half turning to her Empress. "If you actually want to get some sleep tonight, I suggest you stop that, ma vhenara." Celene chuckled softly and settled back into the pillows. Briala had expected that sleep would elude her for a time, yet the warmth and safety of Celene's arms beckoned her beyond the Veil.
Briala woke to the sounds of birds chirping and she reached behind her, only to pull up short as she registered the empty bedding and cool sheets. Panic swarmed her and she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The former spymaster paused midmotion as her eyes alighted upon a neatly folded letter and a very familiar locket.
With trembling hands, Briala ignored the locket and instead unfolded the letter and began to read.
"I wish this beautiful dream would never end, yet in the harsh light of day…
I promised myself that this time would be different, that you would never feel less than what you truly are. A Queen. I once thought that I could give you that, that I could be the one to give you everything your heart desires, everything that you deserve. Yet you and I both know it is not meant to be; the Game demands too much and I don't have enough to offer. I can give you my body, I could even topple Orlais's traditions to make you my Queen, yet can you honestly say that you can trust me? Truly trust that I would kill and that I would die to see you safe? Trust that there is no safer, truer place for you than within my arms? I think we both know the answer to that. Whatever you believe you feel Briala, let it go. It was a dream, nothing more. Awaken and walk in the sunlight, ma elgara.
-Celene"
Briala's scream of loss and anguish was loud enough to echo throughout the Winter Palace. Leagues away, the Eagle let a single tear trail down her face, only to burn away against the Lyrium lines under her skin, as she spurred her horse towards Val Royaux.
Poor Briala, the original draft of this allowed her to make love to Celene but I actually thought this was kinder.
Hahren:Elder/Leader/Keeper- Elise flavors it with a bit of added reverence so it feels more like My leige/My Queen when she says it.
Ma elgara: My Sun(light)
mar solas ena mar din: Let pride lead to your death. My original line for that was "don't let your arrogance lead to your death" finding an elvish/dalish equivalent was too good to pass up.
"Elf" as Briala uses it is a mild slur to denote someone that isn't "Elvhen enough." While I like Briala I would be remiss to ignore the prejudices that many have against their own kin, which are often as casual and insidious as the attitudes actual outsiders have towards other races. Racism is a hydra after all.
Asha- using it to mean adult Elvhen female as Asha'belenar means woman of many years and belenaris means eternity. I don't like using woman/man when describing non humans as those terms refer to adult members of the human species based upon our biological sex. I would think that just how different cultures have their own names for what they are (for instance, the Japanese don't call themselves Japanese…they are Nihonjin) they would have their own terms for female and male (and female and male can be clinical sounding at times) and I think that is a very important distinction to hold on to, especially in our modern society where we try to impose our view of the world on others quite often.
R. Niiyama