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.

Hunger

Music made of strings and brass swelled throughout the halls of the Ghislain chateau. Fat and lazy sounds they were, pregnant with promises of a coming summer. The cool air smelt faintly of springtime rain, that earthy scent that settles comfortably into the bottom of one's soul. In the chateau's vestibule stood the men and women of the nobility, masked and perfumed and jeweled. They made idle conversation, adding to the music a cacophony of voices and to the air an aroma of mixed pleasantries.

She stood above the rest on the topmost landing of the stairs. Beside her stood another woman, regal in her jade-colored gown and obsidian mask. Vivienne found the woman to be a wonderful companion.

"Nicoline, darling, what is the name of your tailor in Val Royeaux? The stitching on your dress is absolutely perfect," asks Vivienne before sipping at her flute of almond-flavored champagne.

"Jeannette de Guy. She has done some lovely pieces for the Empress and more than one for the Dowager. I also hear she is paramour to Lady DuLac. Can you imagine what kind of business that brings her?"

"A most fortuitous bond for Misstress de Guy, indeed," Vivienne replied.

She thought of her own bond, her patron, Duke Bastien de Ghislain. Consequently, the husband of Duchess Nicoline – who Vivienne hosted the musical salon with. Bastien was a dream. His patronage – and being his lover as well – had done much for Vivienne, both in opportunity and reputation.

"It is so wonderful what a noble's patronage can do for someone, is it not? Think, if Bastien had not made his offer to you we would never have met and never would have become such fast friends."

"Very true, my dear," Vivienne chuckled.

Two years ago, when Vivienne first met Duchess Nicoline, she had trembled at the thought of meeting her lover's wife. Bastien assured her that Nicoline held no malice, but it did little to ease Vivienne's mind. She had become accustomed to acquiring political rivals and hated to add the wife of the Duke de Ghislain to that list. But when they met her mind was immediately put at ease. The Duchess was gracious, kind, quick-witted, and a daring player of the Game. Vivienne's attentions were captivated from the second they were introduced.

"Ugh, Vivienne, do you see Marquis Alphonse? I do not recall inviting that rat."

Vivienne smiled at Nicoline and said, "Shall we rout the rat from the nest, darling?"

"I am afraid that I do not have the energy for such a thing tonight." Indeed, the Duchess looked a little pale and worn. Her weariness was displayed in the draw of her cheeks and the slight slump in her posture. "Would you mind taking care of the pest for me?"

"With pleasure."

A servant in a black painted mask took Vivienne's champagne flute away. Vivienne straightened her gown and with a nod of approval from the Duchess she set forth to conquer her prey.

Each step was carefully measured; too long a stride and she would seem gangly, while too short and she would appear rushed. Neck elongated, shoulders low, hands daintily fisted at her sides, and she thought to herself "power"; the combination of thought and posture culminated into a stride that exuded confidence and awe. Heads turned as if on swivels, the music faded into the background, and the chatter that filled the vestibule hushed to a gentle undertone.

They are all looking at me, she thought, and I would want it no other way.

She reached the bottom of the final set of stairs and aimed her gaze at Marquis Alphonse of Mont-de-Glace, the unfortunate brat who thought of himself far too highly and treated others far too ill in order to gain any semblance of fair reputation. His arrival was typically met with groans of displeasure and veiled pleasantries. Vivienne and the Duchess, however, were irritated with his part – or his supposed part – in the Grand Game.

"Dear Alphonse," she said, her voice firm and smooth just the way Enchanter Lydia had taught her, "I was not aware that you had been invited to this evening's event."

He did not see her coming, which gave Vivienne a joyous sense of satisfaction. Surprise was an element not to be discredited in any situation. She had the advantage, and it was written all over the poor Marquis' face as he turned to gawk at her.

"It seems you are an unwelcome guest. What dreadful manners you have, darling. Did you come here hoping to garner the affections of those who are too afraid to ignore your ill-mannered advances?"

He stumbled around his words, another behavior that Vivienne immediately pounced upon.

"Oh, you poor thing. You cannot even piece together a coherent sentence. However, I'm sure there's nothing worth saying in that silly head of yours."

With a twitch of her fingers the Ghislain household guard appeared at her side, flanking her. They were impressive soldiers, young men trained by veterans of the Ferelden Rebellion. Their black masks cried tears of emeralds. Their armored hands snapped to the hilts of their swords, always ready in case they were needed.

Power. It was a wonderful feeling, Vivienne thought, as her hand fell to her hip.

"I shall give you ten seconds to remove yourself from the premises, otherwise these lovely gentleman will be more than happy to do it for you."

"I…" he finally squeaked out. "I will not be bullied by an upstart mage with no name!"

"Three seconds, darling," she coolly continued. To display her composure she pretended to inspect her nails. "Four…"

Marquis Alphonse stomped his feet like a child. "Cold conniving bitch. Your heart might as well be made of iron!"

Anyone who had not been paying attention to the scene turned to Vivienne and the Marquis. All eyes in the vestibule were upon them.

The insults meant nothing to her. If anything, they were fuel for a fire that stoked the flames of a reputation that built and burned brighter with each passing second of the Marquis' outrage.

"Better a heart of iron, monsieur, than the propriety of a child, which is what you possess." She turned on her heel, her royale sea silk gown flapping behind her. Without even passing another glance at the man, she ordered the two household guards to escort the Marquis out. "Ten, darling. I'm afraid you've run out of time."

"This is absurd!"

She didn't see it – she didn't have to – but she heard the scuffle that the Marquis and the guards got into. Vivienne continued forward, never looking back, never revealing for a second that she had the slightest interest in the Marquis' removal. She heard the door to the chateau open and close even as the Marquis declared his wrath with improper words. The whispers in the vestibule began again, coming to a crescendo as she ascended the stairs and took her place beside Duchess Nicoline once more.

"Madame de Fer," they whispered. "Her heart is cold as ice and her soul is dark as iron…"

Madame de Fer. She turned the words over in her mind. De Fer. The Lady of Iron. Yes, it will do, she thought. No longer would she be known as a nameless Montsimmard enchanter with a secret past. She had been forged, like iron, in the crucible of the Grand Game to become Enchanter Vivienne of Montsimmard and Madame de Fer. As she continued to listen to the whispers and the buzzing in the room, she was reminded what she once promised herself long ago:

No demon will ever take me. No mage will ever control me. No noble will look down on me. I will become as hard as iron and as strong as steel. Whatever it takes to survive.

Thanks for reading. Please review.