Vivienne's backstory (what little we know of it) intrigues me. I decided to write it. Here follows what I think could possibly be part of Vivienne's background, based off dialogue and the small bits of information that we have. Not guaranteed to be canon nor to be perfect. Some characters are made up. Everything else belongs to Bioware and Vivienne is written by Mary Kirby. Please review, but be constructive and kind.
Halcyon
She remembers her life and the years she spent while at the Circle of Montsimmard. She learned so much, grew so much, gained so much. By the time she was twenty-four she had earned the rank of Enchanter. One of the youngest Enchanters at Montsimmard in ages, it was said.
She remembers everything that it took to get her there and the adversity that she faced in securing her position. She was, after all, not Orlesian. But she played their pretty games and she smiled and said the right things. She had Enchanter Lydia to thank for that, for as short a time it had been for her to learn.
She remembers how alone she felt during that time. When everyone was out to despoil her part in the Grand Game, there was no room for sentiment, no room to let people in. But she hid it all beneath an iron mask, knowing that revealing weakness would get her as good as killed.
Until one cold night, at the Wintersend Ball in Val Royeaux; her first visit to the Imperial Palace.
…
The frigid air chilled Vivienne to her bones. It sent shivers up her spine. Or was it the potpourri and perfume swirling in the room like a heavy fog? Perhaps it was the aura of mystery and intrigue. Regardless, she did not wish to spoil her opportunity to meet members of the nobility.
"Vicomtesse, I would like to introduce you to Enchanter Vivienne of the Circle of Montsimmard," First Enchanter Arnaud said, showing Vivienne to the pale, petite woman before her.
Vivienne gave a little bow and asked the woman, "How do you do, my lady?"
"First Enchanter, she is marvelous; all that you promised and more!"
The Vicomtesse of Mont-de-Glace – from what Vivienne knew of the woman already – was in her late forties, a devout Andrastian, and childless. Her nephew, son of the late Marquis of Mont-de-Glace, was set to inherit her small fortune. While the Vicomtesse had little power in the overall scheme of the Grand Game she would most certainly make a formidable ally in the days to come.
"Vicomtesse, you are too kind," said Vivienne. "How is the weather in Mont-de-Glace? I hear winters there are most arduous."
The Vicomtesse, in her painted yellow mask and feathered hat, feigned a swoon and set her gloved hand upon her breast.
"Winters are dreadful in Mont-de-Glace, Enchanter, I assure you. I attempt to spend as much time as possible in Val Royeaux during this season… Tell me, Enchanter, your accent… You are not Orlesian, are you?"
"No, madame, I am not, but Montsimmard has been my home for many years now."
"I see. How do you find Montsimmard then?"
For as much as she had determined to gain another noble ally, Vivienne was afraid that the conversation would take a turn for the dreary and dull and she would be left in uninteresting company for the remainder of the evening. First Enchanter Arnaud was entertaining, on rare occassion, but his breath often smelled terrible and Vivienne was acutely aware of it that evening. The fact that he had attempted to mask his odor with garlic cloves – as his physician recommended – made it worse. She dreaded the remaining hours of the Wintersend Ball and prayed that its pace would accelerate.
As she was about to respond to the Vicomtesse, her eyes locked with a roguish stranger in a black mask set with emeralds. The man was tall in comparison to the others around him. His crisp samite uniform bore the decorations of a military officer and the olive wreath pin of a Council of Heralds member. A rapier swung at his side, the pommel and guard crusted with jewels fit for a Grand Duke. She knew immediately two things: that this was a very important man, and that he would be hers.
Never missing a beat, Vivienne returned to her dull conversation with the Vicomtesse.
"I find Montsimmard as beautiful a place as any in our lovely Empire, though what compares to the jewel that is the Imperial city?"
"Ah, spoken well, Madame Vivienne. I wonder, do you have a patron among the nobility? Arnaud, I know how you enjoy setting your Enchanters up for success. If you do not—"
"She indeed does," interrupted a voice, gravelly and smooth at the same time.
Her heart leapt in her chest when she realized the voice belonged to the roguish stranger in the black mask, the same man whose eyes she met across the dance floor. He indeed was tall; he towered above the Vicomtesse and made the First Enchanter seem a child in comparison. Heeled boots had been polished to an obsidian gleam, his uniform was creaseless, and his coiffed black hair had not a strand out of place. Vivienne thought briefly that she recognized the colors and heraldry… Yes. Black and emeralds, a military man – though not a chevalier, a man of importance, the Council of Heralds pin… Of course.
"Duke Bastien," said the Vicomtesse with a polite curtsy to the man.
"Vicomtesse, First Enchanter, Madame Vivienne…" Duke Bastien smiled as he turned his gaze to Vivienne. "I am Enchanter Vivienne's patron, as it pleases her."
"Are you, Ghislain? I was not aware that such an arrangement had been made, particularly from one with such stature as yourself," Arnaud asked. He sounded petty and his breath was rank with garlic.
Duke Bastien de Ghislain. A powerful member of the Council of Heralds. His late daughter was the wife of Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. He was friends of the Montforts and it was whispered that he was well acquainted with Lady Mantillon, the Dowager, former Emperor Florian's mistress and avid player of the Grand Game. There were very few people more important than the Duke de Ghislain, save the Dowager and the Empress herself.
"It is a new development," Vivienne added cheekily, knowing how having such a patron as the Duke could open doors for her that she would never have opened without him.
"I see."
"Vicomtesse, First Enchanter, may I steal Madame Vivienne from you? We have some business matters to discuss."
"Of course, your Grace. It is a pleasure to see you again, as always," the Vicomtesse replied with a quick bow.
The Duke held out his hand for Vivienne and she took it gracefully. She bid her companions a good evening and allowed the Duke to guide her away from them and into the throng of murmuring nobles.
"I am Duke Bastien de Ghislain," he told her, "and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame Vivienne."
"The pleasure is mine, your Grace."
Heads turned and whispers took flight throughout the room as Bastien led Vivienne through the crowd. This was after all, the Dowager's Wintersend Ball, and she would not take lightly the fact that his Grace was ignoring her in order to dote upon a foreigner, a young Enchanter, a mage! It was a scandal from the moment their eyes met, but Vivienne would not wish it any other way.
"I've heard great things about you, my lady. How you rose from the bottom as a mage in the Montsimmard Circle to become the youngest Enchanter in two ages." She noted how he conveniently left out her beginnings as an apprentice in the Free Marches, but would not fault him for it. She took great pains to make it uncommon knowledge.
"And I have likewise heard much of you, your Grace. How through your vote and support our young Empress now sits upon the throne of our glorious Empire. Your military prowess during the Fereldan Rebellion and finesse in battle are often spoken of as well."
He sighed. "No doubt another ploy in the Grand Game, my lady. The Dowager has put herself to work in making the rumor mill spin."
"Then perhaps we should speak of your daughter? I heard that Lady Calienne was a delightful young woman and that some thought she had the proper makings of an empress. It's such a shame that those talents were all for naught."
"I see you are well informed, Madame Vivienne."
"And I see that you are a man of opportunity, your Grace."
He halted at the edge of the dance floor. "I hope you learn to judge me not by the actions of those I associate with, but by the man I am." The Duke bowed to her and held his hand aloft for her to take once more. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
"And send the rumor mill spinning once more? Why, of course, my dear."
Duke Bastien's lips curled in a smile, and as the music of one song faded and opened into another, Vivienne took his hand and danced. The songs played on and on, but Vivienne didn't care. The whispers increased in volume, but Vivienne didn't care. The Dowager's eyes bore into the dance floor, but Vivienne didn't care. The Fifth Blight could have started in that very room and Vivienne would not have possessed an ounce of care.
The only thing that mattered was Bastien – he immediately insisted that she call him so. He was charming and elegant and mysterious. His name, his rank, his importance… Those things should not have mattered as much as they did to her. She would not deny the possibilities that awaited her, now that she had the eye of one of the most important men in Orlais. But Bastien himself was wonderful; a wonderful dancer, a wonderful conversationalist.
As the evening wore on and he refused to leave her side, Vivienne knew with more and more certainty that he was hers, and that he would be for a very long time.
I probably butchered the relationships among the nobles and the timing and a few other things, but at least I had fun writing it!