Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age. If I did, I would have much more money.
Chapter 7
I blew out a tired breath and watched as it became a fine mist cloud in the cool morning air. I shivered slightly. The sun had yet to come up, and I was not prepared to deal with how cold Tevinter could be before the sunrise. It was always so hot during the day.
It was the morning of the ball, and it gave me the only few hours of free time I had before the whole ordeal started. Ever since Azriel had announced that he was throwing a ball for my fake sixteenth birthday, he had either kept me all day in the library, learning the various customs and manners of the upper class portion of Tevinter society, or he had dragged me along with him while he conducted the affairs of the estate or prepared the mansion for the ball.
Essentially, for the last two weeks, I never left Azriel's sight unless it was to sleep. I woke up early every morning, and Azriel already had the day planned out for me to the last second. While the knowledge I gained was most likely going to be helpful, I could not help but be a little frustrated at how little time and freedom I had during those weeks.
A pair of light footsteps approached me from behind, and I turned around to see Leto striding towards me. I greeted him with a small wave, and he nodded back, his features nearly unreadable in the dim, pre-dawn light.
We had not spoken much since the day Azriel 'gifted' him to me. That is to say, we didn't speak at all. I hadn't had the time to speak to him, even though he shadowed my every move. Most of the time, I didn't even notice that he was in the same room as me. Leto was so quiet, and he never seemed to move. He might as well have been a statue. A protective statue with a broadsword strapped to its back, but still a statue.
Leto stopped about ten feet away from where I was standing, and he bowed slightly. I frowned and gave a frustrated sigh. As hard as I had tried to impress upon Leto that he could treat me like an equal, he didn't seem to be quite willing to do so. So, just to annoy him, I curtsied right back at him, smirking as I saw the muscles in his jaw clench and stand out. Two could play this game.
"Shall we begin, La—Sam?" My smirk widened at Leto's slip-up, and I nodded.
"So, how does this all work?" I asked, hands on my hips.
Leto extended his right hand to me, and I hesitantly took it. I knew what dancing looked like, but this was a completely different culture. What if the dances were just as different?
"Relax and stand up straight," Leto instructed. I fixed my posture and tried to focus on fulfilling the first part, but I was getting nervous and tense.
I took a deep breath to calm myself down, but at that moment, Leto's other hand touched my waist and I stiffened even further. He lifted my hand to his shoulder, and he pulled back slightly to look me over. Blood began to pool in my face as he watched me.
"Breathe, Sam," he whispered soothingly. I hadn't realized that I had been holding my breath. "You cannot dance without air."
I nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. This stupid crush was becoming a royal pain in the ass.
"You haven't told me the rules yet," I pointed out. We had already gotten into position to dance. Wasn't there something else he should have told me?
"There is only one rule." I met his bright green eyes with a frown.
"And what's that?"
"Follow my lead."
And with that, Leto stepped forward with one foot, and I hastily stepped back with the opposite foot to keep him from crashing into me. Step to the side. I followed. Step back. I followed. Step to the side. I followed that. Leto halted.
"This is called the waltz. It is the easiest to master, and since you are the guest of honor, you will only be expected to dance once tonight," he explained. Then he repeated the same steps from before, and I followed again, more smoothly this time. "The basic steps form a box. Always remember that."
"Are we just going to stay in a box the entire time?" I asked. I knew this dance from television. The dancers normally were moving all over the floor.
"No."
Leto turned, gently pulling me with him, and we did the same steps again. Only this time, we were turning as we stepped. I relaxed a little as the steps became so familiar that I didn't have to think about where to step. I allowed myself to smile a little. I was dancing, actually dancing. I was more than familiar with the hopping and hip-swaying that we all did at prom and homecoming, but this was real dancing.
"You're doing well, Sam," Leto complimented.
My heart sped up at his words, and my face felt warm again. Instead of ducking my head as I wanted to do, I looked up and smiled at him. There was no way I was going to let a crush make me act like a bashful preteen. I had already been through that phase once, and I wasn't going back.
"You're not too shabby yourself, Leto," I shot back. "Where did you learn all this?"
Leto was the one who looked away. "When… when I was a boy I would sneak out of the slave's quarters to watch the dancers. I mimicked their movements until I knew them as well as they did."
"Were you ever caught?" I must have hit the nail on the head, because at that moment Leto looked down, away from my face.
"Yes."
I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but at that moment, Leto dropped his hand from my waist and lifted our connected hands up above our heads. Before I even realized what he was doing, I was spinning. Then Leto pulled me back to him, and the dance resumed just like it had before, except now I was a little dizzy. Leto had done that on purpose to distract me, the sneaky bastard.
The two of us stopped after a minute, and Leto released my hand and waist. Strangely enough, I missed the contact. He was warm, and it had to have been barely above freezing outside. I suppressed a shiver and wrapped my arms around my middle. The clearing had grown lighter with the rising sun, but it had yet to show itself fully.
"You learn quickly," he commented. "There's little more for me to teach you for this dance. Are you sure you haven't already learned this?"
I shrugged. "I've seen it a lot back home. I've just never taken the time to learn the steps before. Thank you for doing this, Leto."
A small, confused smile spread across his face. He seemed both startled and pleased by my thanking him. I was about to say something (I forget what), when a glimpse of sunlight broke over the tops of the trees and illuminated the two of us standing in the clearing. My breath caught in my throat as the light fell on Leto's face and made the green in his eyes shine as though they were lit from within. I felt my heartbeat stumble then pick up at a wild pace. He really was beautiful.
"I am pleased to serve you, Sam," Leto responded, almost automatically. My heart sunk a little. He still thought of me as his mistress instead of his equal. "Before you return to the manor, it would be best to practice the dance one more time."
He stepped forward, extended a hand, and gave a small, graceful bow. I nodded absently as I placed my hand in his again, and the dance began again. Our steps were fluid and smooth this time, unlike our first attempt, but I couldn't bring myself to rejoice about my success. My mind and eyes were pinned on the elf I was dancing with. It wasn't until after the first spin that Leto realized I was staring intently at him. He met my eyes with his curious gaze, and my heart leapt from my stomach to my throat as something electric passed between our connected gazes.
Neither of us said anything as we whirled about the grassy clearing. Our eyes remained locked on each other throughout the dance. The green light that the sun had revealed in Leto's eyes had died down now that the sun had risen higher and was no longer shining directly in his face, but that did not make him any less handsome.
Leto's grip on my waist tightened and pulled me forward towards him ever so slightly. If I had not been ogling him, I might not have noticed that the space between us had diminished. Actually that's a lie. I would've noticed. It was impossible not to. I could feel his warm body in front of me, nearly pressed up against mine, and our faces were just as close.
He continued to stare at me with an expression that was far too mixed to be understood fully. There was curiosity, confusion, wonder, fear, surprise, amusement, and… interest. All of them danced across his face within moments, and I suddenly wondered what on earth was going on inside his head.
Then it was over. He led me into a spin, stepped back, and bowed. The dance was over, and so was whatever that had been. I sucked in a steadying breath and forced myself to smile gratefully at him. Leto softly suggested that we return to the manor, and so we did.
Neither of us said anything on the walk back, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had irrevocably changed between us. I had been attracted to Leto the moment he'd taken his helmet off for the first time. It was unavoidable. But all my attraction had completely felt one-sided with no chance of being returned.
Now I wasn't so certain that it was one-sided, and it bothered me deeply for many reasons. Leto was a slave, my slave to be exact. The whole idea of going after him while he was mine felt wrong on so many levels. I had no right to do that to him.
Not to mention, my time in Thedas was limited. By the end of the year, I would be back home, and he would remain here. Even if Leto was free, I wouldn't be able to convince myself to pursue him and then leave soon after. It was wrong either way. This realization hit me like a blow to the gut, and I knew immediately that I had to drown my unwelcome feelings while they were still young.
Varania, who had taken Selene's place when she fell ill a few days before, met us before we reached the manor's entrance, and, without a word, she latched onto my arm and pulled me up the stairs into the manor, through the hallways, and to my chambers. She dragged me through my chamber door and pushed me down into the vanity's chair. I spied Leto waiting for orders by the doorway, and before I could tell him that he could go, Varania shut the door in his face.
My eyes grew wide in surprise at Varania's actions.
"Why'd you do that?" I asked. She looked up at me from where she was pouring various salts and perfumes into the bathtub, which was already full with steaming water.
"He snuck a lizard into my pillow this morning," she muttered irritably. "I hate those scaly creatures. They're just so ugly and ugh. He knows it, and he did it to me on purpose. The brat." I suppressed a snicker, but she noticed my smile. "Don't laugh at me! It's not funny! That little beast scared me half to death!"
I pursed my lips so I wouldn't laugh or smile and nodded obediently. She huffed and turned back to the tub.
"You're not like the other slaves," I commented when I could speak without smirking.
Varania corked the perfume and bath salt bottles and turned around to glare at me. With her vibrant red bangs falling over her green eyes and stern face, she looked very intimidating.
"That's funny, because you're not like the other little noble ladies either, are you? In fact, I'm willing to bet you're not even really a noble," she said.
I shrugged and rose to my feet. "You'd be right. But that still doesn't explain you."
"Leto told me about you preferring that he speaks his mind," she answered slowly. "Is that the same for all of us, or is my idiot brother just special?"
"Of course you can speak your mind. Wait…" I blinked. "Leto is your brother?" Varania eyed me with suspicion and disbelief.
"You mean he never mentioned that?" I shook my head, and she shrugged after a moment. "That figures, I suppose. He's very tight-lipped about everything until you get to know him. Then he becomes annoying and pulls pranks on you while you're sleeping."
"Really? I had no idea," I said, surprised by the turn in conversation.
"When he gets used to you, you'll see what a little shit he is. He doesn't know you yet, and be thankful for that," Varania said wryly. Then her voice turned authoritative, "Now get into that bathtub before it turns cold and nasty. I'm supposed to get you ready for the ball tonight, not stand around and chat."
I nodded and set to work on removing my clothes. I was only wearing a pair of pants and a shirt, so it was easy. Once I was finished, I stepped into the warm bathwater and sank all the way in. Over the last two weeks, I had learned that bathing was something of an extensive ritual that 'required' an assistant to help with washing and applying various perfumes and oils. I thought it was stupid to need help, as I could bathe on my own just as well. Unlike Selene, Varania was fine with me refusing her help, and she flitted about the room, setting out hair and makeup tools as I bathed.
Once I had finished, I stepped out of the tub and dried off quickly. Still wrapped in a towel, I was again pushed into the vanity chair, and Varania began the arduous task of taming my hair. She cussed under her breath every time her brush hit a tangle or a curl that didn't want to smooth out, which was every few seconds. I snickered when she would spit out a particularly colorful profanity, but she ignored me. After over an hour of brushing and smoothing out my damp, curly hair, Varania pulled it back into an elaborately braided bun that rested at the base of my neck. Then, she got to work on applying black kohl to line my eyes and darken my lashes, red rouge to darken my lips, and a light golden powder to my face and neck to make my swarthy skin glow in the light.
Immediately, before I could see myself in the mirror, I was pulled out of my chair to where my ball gown lay on the bed. Varania cinched up my corset laces, which hurt like a bitch, and she helped me into the heavy gown. The dress was comprised of two layers. The first layer was a dark gold strapless gown that hugged my upper torso like a second skin then expanded at the waist into a voluminous skirt. The second layer was an outer covering of elaborate black, see-through lace with black beading that rested on top of the gold, and it came up past the deep V neckline of the first layer till it almost reached my collarbone. A pair of lacy sleeves covered my bare arms and attached to the rest of the dress, but they left my shoulders bare.
I slipped on a pair of light, heeled dancing shoes and turned to the mirror to see myself. My eyes widened in surprise at the lady I saw staring back at me. I had always considered myself to be somewhat attractive but never anything spectacular. The bones and angles in my face were too sharp and pronounced, my hair was too wild, and my stature was too tall, too lean, and too crooked. This woman was almost unrecognizable to me. She was elegant and lovely, and her high, sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, and straight, prominent nose were softened by the small black ringlets of hair that rested gently on the sides of her face. I could barely believe that this person in the mirror was me. For the first time, my face did not make me look awkward and mannish, but proud and noble.
My painted lips formed a broad grin, and I whirled around and embraced the red-haired elf. Varania squeaked and squirmed momentarily, but then she calmed and awkwardly patted my bare shoulders. After a moment, I let her go, thanking her profusely as I did so. She just raised an eyebrow at me as if I was crazy and brushed off my thanks with a wave of her hand.
She reached into the vanity's jewelry box and pulled out a gold and onyx necklace with matching earrings, which I put on immediately. Then came the mask. It was made from some kind of black metal that had been crafted into elegant swirls and lines which came together in the shape of a half mask. It was less of a mask, and more of a decoration. I brought it up to my face and dropped my hand. It held fast to my face, as though it had been charmed to do so, which it had.
I glanced out the window, and saw that the sun had already past the midpoint in the sky. It was long after noon. Varania joined me at the window, and pointed at something moving on the road far in the distance.
"Look," she said, her hand raised. I squinted to get a better look, but the thing only looked like a dark speck.
"What am I looking at?"
"Those are the first carriages that will arrive for tonight's ball." I straightened up, feeling my stomach twist into nervous knots. "They will take their sweet time coming here, so you have an hour or so."
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I said, a little weakly.
A man wearing a black, hooded robe and a full-faced golden mask entered the room. He was covered from head to toe with black, so I could not tell who he was. The only thing remotely visible were his eyes, and they were veiled from the cloak's shadow. He stopped short upon entering, and his body language grew tense and nervous.
"Azriel wishes to speak with you before the guests arrive," he said finally. The voice was unmistakable.
"Of course he does," I replied, pursing my lips. I sighed and followed Leto out of the room.
We strode through the halls in rather uncomfortable silence. At least, I thought it was uncomfortable. Because of the mask and robe, Leto was completely unreadable, and it really bothered me.
We reached the library where Azriel stood waiting for me. He wore a robe similar to Leto's, except it was dark blue and richly embroidered with gold thread, and the hood was down. The mask he wore was much like mine, and it was more for show than anything else.
The moment I entered the library, Azriel turned and raked an inquisitive eye up and down my form. After a moment, a small, satisfied smile spread across the unmasked part of his face.
"My dear, you look positively ravishing," he exclaimed, but the praise felt hollow coming from him. "The minstrels will compose songs of your beauty after tonight."
I crossed my arms. "I aim to please," I said flatly.
"And so you should, my dear." Azriel stepped towards me. "You remember what I taught you, of course?"
"Of course," I echoed back, fighting and failing miserably to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
Azriel roughly grasped my chin. "None of that tonight, my dear," he hissed. I pulled back and slapped his hand away.
"Yes, yes, I know! Be coy and mysterious so that no one will know that you're actually a commoner from another world!" I snapped. "There's just one problem: I am not coy or mysterious at all! I'm blunt and tactless. There's no way in hell that I can charm those people!"
"You were the head of the Elven pantheon and the Elven Empire, my dear," Azriel said breezily. "I doubt you could have reached such an achievement without there being something in you worth following and admiring. I have faith in you."
I scoffed. "Yeah, back in my past life when I was a god. Right. Now, let's forget that I barely believe that shit to begin with. I don't remember that life! Just because I accidentally set off a firestorm and had a weird dream about being Elgar'nan doesn't mean that I've absorbed his knowledge. He might know how to deal with all this, but I sure as hell don't!"
Azriel turned away from me and strode out of the library. Before he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder and said, "If you ever wish to return home, pray that you figure it out." And with that, he was gone.
A growl of frustration tore its way out of my throat. I felt an overwhelming need to hit or break something, preferably a bone in Azriel's body. My hands balled up into fists, but there was nothing for them to hit so they hung uselessly by my sides. A gloved hand rested on my bare shoulder, startling me. I jumped and my head snapped around. It was Leto, and he had removed his mask.
"If it is any consolation, Sam, I believe that you will do well," he said softly. Sincerity shone in his bright green eyes, and for a moment I was inclined to believe him.
"Why is that?" I asked, a little more sharply than was necessary.
"You are strong," he said. "Principled. You have the courage and strength to stand up and challenge the status quo, and the wisdom and intelligence to know when to stand down. That is exactly the kind of person that's best suited for the Game. You can do this, Sam."
I stared up at him with my mouth slightly open in astonishment. He didn't really believe that, did he? I shook my head with a nervous chuckle.
"You don't believe that."
Leto seemed almost offended by that statement. "You once told me that I may speak my mind, and that is what I am doing. When I say that I know you will take Tevinter by storm, I mean it."
His words finally sunk in, and all I could do was gape at him mutely. My cheeks burned, and I felt my heartbeat skyrocket. I struggled to find my tongue.
"I… thank you, Leto." He smiled gently at me, and I melted a little inside. A thought occurred to me. "What about you? Where will you be?"
"I will be nearby," he said. "I wear a mask tonight, so no one will suspect that I am not a guest."
"What if I need your help with something? You know more about all this than I do, and Azriel is not going to help me."
Leto hummed and frowned slightly. He pulled back momentarily to look me over quickly. Then, without saying a word, he beckoned for me to follow him as he turned to the far wall of the library. He touched a groove in the molding, and the sound of a lock clicking filled the air. He pushed lightly, and a door appeared and swung open. I followed him through and found myself in the same fenced clearing that I had spied Leto in two weeks ago. My face flushed again at the memory.
There was a large, wild rosebush growing against the wall by the door. Leto knelt by it and plucked one of its dark violet blossoms. He reached for my hair, and in one move brought the flower up and carefully slid it behind the braided bun and adjusted it until it was secure in my hair.
"Should you ever need me, reach up and touch the rose," he instructed. "I will be watching."
I opened my mouth to thank him, but at that moment, Varania came sprinting into the library. She spied us and darted forward, grabbed both my arm and Leto's, and she pulled us out into the hall.
"It's time to move, lovebirds! You two can be all lovey dovey later," she ordered sternly and turned to me. "The guests have begun to arrive, and they'll want to see you soon. So shoo!"
Leto and I protested to the term lovebirds at the same time.
"We're not-"
"We're not-"
"Not my problem! Though you could certainly do worse, Leto," she said, cutting us off. "Now go, or Master Azriel will have my hide!"
And so we both set off down the hall, once again in awkward silence. We reached the hallway balcony overlooking the vestibule, and I paused to see what was going on down there. About fifteen people, all in masks and rich, elaborate finery, were gathered in the room, chatting amongst themselves. I searched the small crowd for Azriel, and I found him greeting the guests. Just then, the doors opened and another small crowd of nobles entered. Azriel stepped forward to greet them as well.
I sighed and moved to join my 'father' in the vestibule, but Leto reached out an arm to stop me. I glanced up at him with a confused frown.
"You are the guest of honor," he said in an undertone. "You are the reason this party is being held. The nobles will be beside themselves with curiosity the more you stay away, so it would be wiser to delay."
"But Varania said-" I began.
"My sister will say anything to provoke a reaction. She does not fear punishment," Leto cut her off. "And besides, Azriel does not appear to be missing your presence too dearly. Let them wait. In the meantime, you can watch how the Game is played down below."
My eyebrows raised at his command, but a smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth.
"Ordering me about, are you? I see you've taken what I said to heart."
Leto looked at me sharply, startled. Then, he caught my teasing expression, and he relaxed. A small grin spread across his mouth, and his eyes glinted mischievously at me. He raised a finger to his smirking lips, and then he brought up his mask to his face. I got the message and turned back to the guests down below, still smiling slightly.
More and more guests arrived as the hour went by, each adorned with vibrant silks and gems and feathers that would've put a peacock to shame. They crowded about the vestibule until the doors which lead to the ballroom were opened. It was rather entertaining to watch them strut about as if they were supermodels. There were quite a few outfits that would've done well on the runways at New York fashion week. And there were also quite a few outfits that were so over the top terrible that I was tempted to rub my eyes and wonder what the hell I had just seen.
When the majority of the guests had arrived and situated in the ballroom, Azriel reappeared in the vestibule and caught sight of me and Leto. He motioned for me to come down, and I did so promptly. Just as we had practiced, Azriel held out his hand, which I took, and we strode into the ballroom side-by-side. There was a noise like a wooden staff cracking loudly against stone. Immediately, all the chatter stopped short, and I found myself being stared at by over a hundred pairs of haughty eyes.
I swallowed nervously as we lingered momentarily by the door. Azriel gave my hand a firm squeeze to remind me of my lessons. I took a deep breath, then I straightened my posture, brought up my chin, and schooled my features into a benevolent and serene mask. Then, we stepped fully into the ballroom, and I had the distinct feeling that I was walking into a pool filled with killer sharks.
The first of the nobles to approach us spoke only to Azriel at first, then they turned to me with speculative gazes. I remembered the etiquette lessons that Azriel had been giving me for the last two weeks, and the initial pleasantries went by without a problem. Once it was established that I wasn't an uncultured savage, the guests smiled and chatted amicably with me for a few minutes before moving on so that others could step in. I allowed myself to relax a tiny bit so I could at least pretend to enjoy myself. Then, just as I began to feel as though I was getting the hang of things, a woman who looked scarily like Azriel appeared before us, except, unlike Azriel, she had the sourest and most thunderous expression coloring her pale, thin features.
"Ah, dear Andromeda!" Azriel exclaimed, smiling broadly. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could've sworn that there was a predatorial gleam in his pale blue eyes. "It is such a treat to see you again! I have missed you so!"
"That so?" she sneered up at him. "You have certainly had a funny way of showing it to me, dearest brother."
Azriel sighed dramatically. "Sweet Andromeda, I do not understand. I have shown you nothing but love." If I had not recognized the mocking tone that he'd so often used on me when I complained, I would've thought he was being sincere.
Andromeda harrumphed and turned her pale gaze to me. Her nose wrinkled violently, as though she'd been forced to smell something rotten.
"So this is your bastard, I take it?" she drawled accusingly. My eyebrow quirked upwards involuntarily, but I still stepped forward and gave her my most winning smile.
"You must be the Aunt Andromeda that father has told me about for so long!" I lied through my teeth, still smiling broadly. "I am Samantha Aren, my lady. It is such a pleasu-"
"It would be wise for you to hold your tongue, halfbreed," she spat viciously. "I know exactly who and what you are." She turned to Azriel. "Father would be rolling in his grave if he knew that the bastard child of your elven whore was to inherit our family's estate and noble legacy instead of its rightful heir!"
Scandalized gasps erupted around the ballroom, and I had to stop myself from making a similar noise. I glanced over at Azriel, unsure. He had never mentioned anything about this. Apparently that was how Tevinter knew me. I bit back a scoff when I saw that he had neither made a sound or changed his expression. It was just like him to toss me into the deep end without advice on how to swim back.
A cool, sharp voice cut through the air, and drew the attention of the whole room to it."That's quite a serious claim, Aunt Andromeda."
It was like Moses had parted the Red Sea. The guests drew back from the source of the voice, and those closest to it bowed reverently. Azriel smirked and bowed, and I followed suit with a curtsy, still not knowing who had spoken or who we were all bowing to. Andromeda had grown deathly pale and spluttered for a moment, then she dropped into a curtsy as well.
"M-my lord Archon," she stuttered nervously. Immediately, my insides turned cold. The Archon was here.
"You insult my little sister, and by extension, me. Do you have anything to say that would defend such accusations, or are you blowing hot air again?" said the faceless Archon. Andromeda was blocking my view of him, and I was tempted to peak around her, but I didn't want to lose my balance.
"I… d-did not think-"
"Of course not. You never do," the man said coolly. "If you were wise, you would step aside and let me greet my family. It has been ages since I last saw them."
Andromeda turned a very nasty shade of purple, then she straightened up and scurried off into the crowd, who parted before her as if she had the plague. My eyes followed her departure momentarily before snapping over to the Archon. He was tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned, blue-eyed, and he possessed the same thin, angular face that Azriel did. He was also the only one not wearing a mask.
"My lord Archon," Azriel addressed him, bowing. I followed suit with a curtsy.
"None of that, father," the Archon chided. "Stand up. You as well, sister." I obeyed, plastering a small, pleasant smile on my face. Inside, I was reeling from what was happening.
"Welcome back home, Darius," Azriel said graciously.
Archon Darius sent his father a withering glare, and responded with an equally polite 'thank you'. My gaze travelled between them, watching the coldness in their interactions. They hated each other. That much was clear to me.
Once they finished their pleasantries, Archon Darius turned to me with a curious smile. "Now, dearest Samantha, it has been so long! Last we met, you were barely at waist height. Here," he held out his arm for me to take, "let us take a turn about the gardens. We have much to discuss." I took the offered arm, and Azriel began to protest.
"With all due respect, she has more guests to gre-"
Archon Darius cut him off. "I am certain they will forgive her this time, father."
And with that, I was being led out of the ballroom. My nerves began to hum with restless energy, just as they always did when I was anxious. Azriel had taught me nothing about what to do in this situation. I was on my own. A thought occurred to me, and I reached up to lightly touch the dark purple rose that was pinned to my bun.
The sun was just beginning to set as we entered the gardens. We walked side by side in silence for several moments until we were out of hearing range of other guests.
"My father told me everything," he said simply.
I glanced at him cautiously. "Is that so?"
He snorted. "You may drop the coy act for now, Samantha. I was told of your brash temperament. You have no need to impress me with words. Your magical potential impresses me far more than your gifts, or lack thereof, in playing the Game ever could."
"And here I thought I was doing so well," I said, allowing my facial muscles to relax a little. Archon Darius laughed.
"You were passable, as any noble would be when first introduced to the world of politics. But it matters little," he replied, waving his free arm about as he spoke. "My father is familiar with the time when noble mages had to be careful and secretive, so as not to attract the templars to their plans. Fortunately, those times are over. He wishes that you learn the political skills before teaching you to harness your power. I disagree."
"What do you mean?"
Archon Darius sighed. "Samantha, our society revolves around who holds the strongest magical abilities. As long as my father teaches you 'proper' etiquette and not how to control your magic, you will remain under his thumb. In the Imperium, you can play the Game perfectly until you are blue in the face, but unless you wield magic, no one will take you seriously. My father knows this and has been using it against you."
Warning bells went off in my head.
"I… I don't understand." Darius stopped and turned to face me in the dimming light. His eyes held a sad, knowing look that set me on edge.
"No mortal has the power to travel back across the Fade to another world," he said softly. "He told me this himself only a few weeks ago. My father never meant to for you to return home."
I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream and tell him that he was a liar, but I couldn't. Somehow, down in the deepest corner of my mind that I had begun to associate with Elgar'nan, I knew that he was telling the truth. There was no going back. And with that realization, my heart began to sink to the bottom of my feet, and I felt as though a dull knife had pierced my chest. All emotion drained from my body, and a chilling numbness settled in my guts.
"Why are you telling me this? How do I know that you don't have an agenda like Azriel?" I asked after a moment of silence.
"Agenda? The only agenda we share is the betterment of the Imperium," Archon Darius said, watching me closely.
I crossed my arms and frowned up at him. "Then you don't know?" Darius's eyes narrowed. "Azriel told me that he wanted my help with, as he said, 'tearing down the Tevinter Imperium.' I may be simple-minded, but that doesn't sound like he wants to make it all better."
Archon Darius grew very still, but his eyes were nothing but curious, not at all concerned. After a moment, he turned away from me and moved towards a marble statue of a dragon. He absently traced one of the claws, then moved away again. I heard him sigh softly.
"I know, my dear," he said in a soft voice. He sounded… sad. "I have known for years that my father's intentions are less than, well, honorable."
Archon Darius wordlessly extended his arm to me again, and I took it. We began walking slowly back towards the ballroom entrance. I nervously eyed the Archon the whole way back. He was perfectly calm, not at all affected by what I'd told him.
"My father has always been easily angered over how little power he wields in the Imperium, compared to how much power he wishes he could have. He has always fancied the idea of altering the Imperium to suit his desires, but with you, he has the means to make that fantasy a reality."
"You still haven't explained why you're telling me all this," I cut in sharply, desperate to understand. "You said earlier that I am powerless. What is your point to all of this?"
A bark of laughter burst from him suddenly. "Dear Samantha, you will not always be powerless. You carry the soul of the King of gods. When the day comes for you to ascend to your rightful place in the heavens, I wish you to remember who gave you their respect and aid, and who did not." He gently patted my arm, which was linked with his. "I brought you out here to extend to you an invitation to come live in my palace in Minrathous. You would be trained how to master your powers and the world around you, and unlike my father, I will not lie to you."
The offer should have caused my heart to soar, but I felt nothing. We reached the entrance, and Archon Darius released my arm and gave me a slight bow.
"I expect your answer by the end of the night."
"You are most generous, my lord Archon," I replied, forcing the benevolent mask back into place. I felt a tearing sensation in my chest. If I chose him, then I was choosing to abandon the hope that I could return home, to my family, to my friends, to my world. On the other hand, if he was right and I chose to stay, I would be allowing myself to be used. I might as well be putting a collar around my neck and handing the leash to Azriel.
Archon Darius inclined his head in a slight bow, and then, he was gone. My eyes scanned over the ballroom. Many of the guests had already begun to dance, and the rest of them were either segmented into small groups around the room or they were gathered around the buffet table. My attention was caught by a scuffle across the room. The guests around them stopped whatever they were doing to watch, but once the two noblemen were hauled away from each other by guards, they soon forgot about the fight and continued on.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and I walked over to the nearest buffet table. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Azriel speaking with one of the guests. Whatever appetite I might've had, vanished, and a fierce, burning rage began to build in the pit of my stomach. The numbness was gone, replaced by desire for revenge. He had lied to me, tried to use me.
We will make him pay.
For a quick moment, the flames in the candles and chandeliers all extended up into the air, and the whole room became startlingly bright. A few guests gasped and yelped at the sudden change, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come. Azriel's gaze flickered over to me, and I saw his eyes narrow at me in suspicion. I smiled coldly at him, baring my teeth slightly, and I turned away.
"Well! That was certainly unusual," said a rather jovial voice from behind me. I whirled around in surprise. "Oh, did I startle you? I'm so sorry. I only meant to introduce myself. My name is Dorian Pavus."
I raised an eyebrow at him. He was about my height, with short black hair, swarthy skin, stormy grey eyes, and a surprisingly well-styled mustache. He was grinning slightly, but his eyes looked a strange mixture of bored and mischievous. The smell of spicy perfume wafted off of him and hit my nose, and I felt an urge to sneeze.
"Oh, so that's your name. I was beginning to think that I should just call you Peppers." I was in no mood to play the nice diplomat, and so the first thing to come out of my mouth was sass.
A startled look came over his face, and then he laughed. His grin broadened, and the mischief in his eyes became more pronounced.
"Oh, trust me, no one is more aware of this disaster than yours truly," Dorian said after his laughter subsided. "My mother insisted I wear this foul scent. Never again."
"Aren't you a bit old for the 'my mother made me do it' excuse?" I asked.
"You would think so, but I'm afraid my mother still sees me as a five-year-old with scabby knees and muddy clothes," he said, still grinning. "And my aunt was in agreement with her. Alas, I was outnumbered."
I was just about to reply when a gloved hand closed over my arm, and a familiar presence appeared right behind me.
"There's trouble." I straightened slightly and gave a tense nod.
I muttered an 'excuse me' to Dorian Pavus, and I allowed Leto to pull me away. I quickly noticed that he was leading me to the dance floor. I shot him a confused look, but the mask obscured his face from me. Leto pulled me into the correct stance, and our dance began.
"What's all this about?"
"The men in the full masks," he whispered calmly. "One by the wyvern tapestry, one standing next to the magister with the feather headdress, one standing by the main doors, and another hidden in the shadows behind the Archon. Do you see them?"
As the dance led us around the floor, I inconspicuously glanced over to the areas he listed, and there they were. The four men wore similar robes of deep purple silk and full-face silver masks. They did not speak to anyone. They simply stood there, watching.
I nodded. "I see them."
Leto moved closer to me and dropped his voice down to a deep rumble, causing an involuntary shiver to run down my spine and I nearly shuddered. If I had not been so close, I would not have heard him speak.
"Those men are assassins. I recognize the sigil on their rings."
Air hissed through my nostrils in a huff of exasperation. My expression morphed into a scowl. Leto must've noticed that I was starting to lose my temper, because he started rubbing small, soothing circles on the top of the hand he was holding.
"Sweet Mary, mother of God!" I growled under my breath. "What's next? Demons? Dragons? Zombies? Teenage mutant ninja turtles on steroids?"
Leto glanced down at me sharply, and even with the mask I could tell that he was confused. I shook my head and sighed.
"Alright, I'll bite. Who do the assassins want to kill? Do you know?"
"The Archon, I suspect," he replied, so nonchalantly that I jerked back in surprise. Leto held a steadying hand on my back and kept me moving with him smoothly across the dance floor, despite my reaction. "They were tailing the two of you through the gardens. If you had not commanded my presence, I doubt I would have seen the assassins until it was too late."
My grip on his shoulder and hand tightened. "Were they going to attack us out there?"
He nodded. "I made my presence known to them before they could strike. The Silver Wolves know of me and chose not to attack while I was there. They will make their move at the stroke of midnight, as is their normal custom."
"I have to warn the Archon," I said, beginning to pull away. Leto held me fast against him and shook his head.
"Do that and the Silver Wolves will live to strike another day," he hissed in my ear. "All four of them are here for the assassination of the century. If we play this right, they can be permanently stopped tonight."
"What are you planning?" Leto lifted our connected hands up into the air, and I twirled, feeling my skirts balloon out and twirl with me.
"They already suspect that I will stop them, but they do not know you," he whispered softly, still guiding me gracefully around the dance floor. "If you eliminate one, the rest will abandon their contract to follow you. If you lead them to the library where I will be waiting, I will take care of the rest."
My eyes widened, and my heart began to thump rapidly in my chest. Dumbstruck, I stared up at Leto as though he had grown an extra head.
"Eliminate?" I squeaked under my breath. "You mean 'kill.' I can't do that. I won't do it! I'm not a killer!"
A part of my mind twinged suddenly, as though in disagreement. I saw a flash of bright, molten gold eyes and a pair of large, dark hands, sticky and slippery with blood. A deep, powerful voice filled my head. Yes. Yes you are, it said. I gasped through clenched teeth, and my body tensed like a bowstring.
"Listen to me, Sam. If you don't do this, the Archon will die, and you will be forced to remain here and do as Azriel commands. You have a chance to be free from him. For you sake, take it."
My eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to me suddenly. "Did you know that he had been lying to me?"
He met my gaze evenly. Our closeness made it possible for me to see his eyes, which were locked with mine underneath the mask.
"No," he said simply. "But neither did I care. The two are not true anymore."
I became aware that the music was beginning to come to a close, and there was a finality to our steps as we twirled about the dance floor. I broke eye contact with him first, trying to look anywhere but him as a storm raged on inside me. The dance came to an end, and, before I could step away, Leto placed something cold and hard onto my hand. I didn't have to look down to know that it was a dagger.
"The choice is yours, my lady."
And with that, he was gone. My feet moved of their own accord back to the buffet table, dagger still concealed in my clutched hand. I reached for a goblet of wine and took several swallows of the cool, slightly sour liquid. My eyes travelled over the locations where the assassins lay in wait, and I tried to quell the trembling in my hands.
It's easy. The man standing by the doors. Kill him. He's a murderer.
Then I would be a murderer too.
You already are. Remember? All those people you burned alive when your temper got away from you.
No.
No? You know that I speak the truth. Why would I lie to myself?
Shut up!
Too late for that now.
A hand touched my shoulder, startling me out of my stupor. I squeaked and jumped away. The wine in my glass sloshed a bit but did not spill, thankfully. I whirled around, coming face to face with another noble. Except this time, I did not recognize him from before. He was an older man, tall and thin, with gray hair that was slicked back and a mustache-less gray beard.
"Apologies, Lady Samantha," he said smoothly. An uneasy shiver ripped through me as the man's gleaming, silver eyes wandered over me. I disliked him already. "You were growing quite pale. Do you feel ill?"
Snake.
I stuttered. "Well, I… now that you mention it, I do feel a little faint. It's probably best that I go lie down for a minute." Good. Get rid of him. Shut it!
"Do you need assistance?"
No. "No." I nearly slapped myself for speaking that out loud. "I mean, no thank you, my lord. Your offer of help is appreciated, but I will be perfectly alright."
A pair of dark-haired women suddenly appeared beside the man, and the older of the two clasped his shoulder.
"There you are, Danarius! I have been looking everywhere for you. You remember my daughter, Hadriana, of course?" said the woman enthusiastically. I remembered suddenly that her name was Katarina Adonus, and, if our first meeting was anything to go off of, she was an incessant talker.
"Ah, yes. Lovely to see you again, my dear."
I used their momentary distraction to my advantage and sneaked away from the three unnoticed. Wine goblet still in hand, I made my way towards the main doors. I hadn't been lying about wanting to be alone. I couldn't think properly in this crowd, and Elgar'nan's voice was getting louder and more distracting.
Your voice.
Shut. Up.
I bit the inside of my cheek and kept walking. I took another gulp of wine, hoping that maybe it would bring down the voice's volume, at the very least. The liquid sat uncomfortably in my empty stomach, but I still continued to drink it. I passed the doors and entered the empty vestibule, but not before my eyes brushed over the assassin only five feet away from me. My insides clenched nervously, and I took another gulp of wine.
If you don't kill him, Darius will die. Our chance of freedom from Azriel: gone. Leto and his family's freedom from Azriel: gone. Is this what you want?
I won't kill. It's not right.
An old friend once told me that 'the healer has the bloodiest hands'. Either accept the bloodshed needed to make things better, or stand and watch uselessly from the sidelines as your world crumbles around you.
My brows knit together, and anxiety settled in my chest. I shook my head and brought my hand up to rub my forehead.
I… can't. I can't do it. I can't take another person's life.
But I can, and we are the same person. The same soul. Trust me. Let me in.
Any normal person wouldn't have listened. A normal person would have continued to try to shut out the voice that told them to kill. But I was nothing like how a normal person should be. I had the voice of a god speaking in my ear, telling me to kill, and I was beginning to listen. I was afraid, certainly, but that had begun to drain away as he spoke.
There is no other way. Trust me.
And so I did. Time slowed, and a sense of pure, serene calm settled over me. I can't remember if my decision to move was conscious or not, but my feet did begin to carry me across the floor. I remember feeling as though I was floating, not even making a sound as I glided towards the man from behind. The knife felt cold in between my fingers, like a piece of ice. The man in the silver mask did not even notice my approach. No one did.
As if by instinct, I wrapped my right arm around the man's throat and pulled back sharply. Immediately, the assassin began to struggle violently. He lifted up his hands to grasp my arms, probably to rip me off him. I took my window of opportunity. The movement was smooth and swift, as though if had been practiced time and time again. In an instant, the dagger was out of my hands, buried under the assassin's armpit, undoubtedly piercing both his lung and heart. He gasped sharply and stumbled forward as I released him and faded back into obscurity among the crowd.
I watched, strangely fascinated, as the assassin gurgled and choked before collapsing to the floor. Nobles all around gasped and exclaimed loudly at the new development, but no one appeared particularly concerned or startled. They seemed more amused than anything else.
Again, without even realizing what I was doing, I scanned the ballroom. I caught the gaze of one of the other assassins, the one behind the Archon, and my painted lips curved into a predatory smirk. Casually, I turned on my heel and deliberately strode out of the ballroom. None of the nobles seemed to notice my departure. That was fine by me. I was not trying to catch their attention tonight.
The hallway leading to the library was deserted and darkened. I could feel the other three assassins behind me, slowly gaining on me, despite my long strides. Yet I was not afraid. It was the oddest feeling. My blood sang in my veins with excitement. I felt… alive.
I pushed open the double doors and stepped into the library, back straight and head held high. I stopped and turned sharply, feeling my skirt swish around my legs. The three had already entered and stood in the shadows, sizing me up. My lips curled into a wicked smirk, and I lifted my hand to beckon them to come closer.
At once, they advanced. A shadow from the edge of the room appeared and lunged for the assassins. The three turned their attention from me to the shadow, who I knew was Leto. I stayed back, watching the fight appreciatively. Leto was awe-inspiring in his speed and skill, like a ghost. The other three were no strangers to combat, but Leto… Leto was a master. Every move he made was fluid, graceful, and full of power. The first two went down quickly, but the last one was far more skilled than his other companions.
The assassin ducked and dodged and deflected every swing of Leto's sword, and, for a while, it seemed they were evenly matched. At last, they broke apart, circling each other, waiting for the other to make a move. I had stepped out of the way of the fight when it first started and was standing by one of the bookcases. Growling impatiently, I snatched up a particularly thick tome and chucked it at the assassin. It struck him in the side of the head, and he stumbled drunkenly. Leto took advantage of his opponent's weakness and did not hesitate to drive his sword through the man's chest. The assassin fell, choking and sputtering before going silent and still a moment later.
Leto stepped towards the body and pulled out the sword, sheathed it, and he turned towards me. He removed the gold mask and pulled back his hood. His face was set in grim lines, and he was drenched in sweat. He eyed me carefully.
"Are you alright, Sam?" Leto asked, concern evident in his voice.
Sam.
It was as though a switched had been flipped. The unnatural calm that had settled over me, the clarity, the confidence, and the exhilaration, all of it vanished. It left me feeling breathless and ragged. My legs crumbled underneath my own weight, and I collapsed to the ground, shaking. Leto rushed to my side, worry in his eyes. He laid a hand on my shoulder, and he began to frantically search my body for injury.
"What happened? Are you hurt?!" he demanded sharply.
"I—no—I…" I stuttered, still shaking. I caught sight of my hands, covered in blood that was just beginning to dry. Somehow, that sight wasn't as foreign to me as it should have been. "I killed someone."
As soon as those words left my mouth, all the blood drained from my face, my heart sped up to a panicked pace, and my stomach lurched. Leto must have seen the green pallor of my skin because he lifted me into his arms and pushed us through the door to his enclosure, where he put me down. I immediately bent over and retched. Rough hands held my long bangs out of the way as I heaved into the bushes. When I was done, I sat there on the grass, a wide-eyed, quivering mess.
We did well. Remember that.
A sob tore its way out of my throat, and I found it suddenly very hard to breathe. I gasped for air, feeling my chest tighten as though an iron band was pressing on me. Each breath I took became another sob, and before long I was weeping openly.
I had killed a person. Someone who likely had friends, loved ones, perhaps even a family. And I had wiped him from existence.
There was no other way.
There's always another way.
I can't tell you how many sniveling cowards have said those exact words to me. Cowards who would rather run and play nice than stand and fight. I expected better from you.
Fuck. You.
A hand rubbed small circles on my back as I cried my eyes out. The iron band around my chest lessened somewhat after a while, and my cries grew quieter. I don't know how long I sat there with Leto by my side. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. I don't know. At last, I had run out of tears, and I just sat there, hoarse and spent. Leto continued to rub circles on my back, and the motion was oddly soothing.
"Does it get better?" I rasped.
The motion halted. "Yes." It picked up again. "Every death is easier than the last. Eventually you feel nothing. Then you begin to feel nothing even when you're not killing."
I turned to look up him. The moonlight cast silver shadows across his handsome face, but his eyes gleamed down at me like a cat's in the night.
"Is that what you feel?"
He hesitated but nodded. "Sometimes."
"Will I feel that way?" The words were spoken so softly that I wondered if he even heard me, but I could not bring myself to repeat them.
Yes.
"No." He spoke with such finality that it surprised me. "You are… better than that. Better than me. Better than this place. You will rise above this, and then you will return to the home of freedom you've told me about. I have faith in you."
I wanted to cry again, but I had no tears or energy left to do so. My expression crumbled slightly at his words.
"You really shouldn't." It took me a moment to realize that both Elgar'nan and I had spoken at once. In that moment, I found myself agreeing with him.
He touched my chin and brought it up gently, bringing my gaze up to meet his. He was smiling wryly, as though secretly amused by what I'd said. I noticed at that moment just exactly how close we were to each other. His face was mere inches from mine.
"I still do, nonetheless," he whispered with such conviction that I could do nothing but stare up at him dumbly.
Leto dropped his hand from my chin and pulled back slightly. I found myself missing the contact. The smile had disappeared and was replaced by a look of resolve. He stood suddenly and held out his hand to me.
"The night is not over yet, Sam. There is still much to do."
I sighed softly. I was so tired, so drained, that I wished I could just go to sleep on the grass right there. But I knew he was right. The night was not yet over.
I took his hand, and he pulled me up. "Let's clean up that blood first."
Leto led me out of his enclosure to a small well, likely where the slaves drew their water every day. He drew a bucketful and handed me a ladle. I filled the ladle and took a few sips to swish out the taste of vomit in my mouth, and then I took a few sips for drinking. The water was cool and refreshing, and I felt it return a little bit of life to me. When I was done, Leto helped me wash my hands free of blood. In the moonlight, the blood looked black, and so I could pretend that it wasn't blood for the moment. If I didn't, I knew I would break again.
"Are you ready?" Leto asked once I had been cleaned up enough.
"No," I replied, my voice still hoarse. I meet his eyes. "But lead the way. I have to tell an Archon that I accept his offer."
A/N: If I remember correctly, Dorian said that in Tevinter, if there wasn't at least one murder at a party, then it was a very dull event. So here you have it! A proper Tevinter ball! Yay!
Anyway, I think this is the longest chapter that I've posted for this story. This one took ages to work through, and there's still more to go. Once I realized how much I was writing for this, I had to decide to cut it into two. And so, here's the first part. I hope you all have enjoyed this latest installment of Invictus.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! I live for feeback! What do you think of the new developments in Sam and Leto's relationship? Yay or nay? Should I add in more Varania? How did you like the two cameos? And finally, who do you think hired the assassins? *sinister chuckling*