I'll Be Good (OffToTheRaces x Quantum Tangle)

[Quantum Tangle]

“He is a fool-hardy King and like his father quickly misguided, but I hope, beyond hope that he takes heel to reason.”

“And should he not? Our King is quite found of myths and tales.”

“In that we are agreed, but there are no griffins to ride into battle, nor are the Wardens beacons of salvation he sees.”

“There is no reason in staining this alliance with mistrust so early my Lord.”

“Is there no reason for suspicion, Wynne? Or do we battle this blight only to be pressed under boot by agents of Orlais. I would not see we free men cower to another reign of pomp, disgrace, and taxation to lands that are not our own. I will not stand idly in the face of my enemies and their sympathizers.”

“Then surely you will have little peace. A man, whom constantly guards himself from all intrusions, will oft turn away the hand of a friend. That man cannot be pitied when he mourns his sorrows.”

“Dear Enchanter, do not mistake me for a man who begs for pity. I will be as I have always been: Resolute.”

____________________________________

An army had come to Ostagar. Brought to build high walls and wait for a coming darkness, for the shadows of a Blight came seeping from below. A poison in legends of times before even his troubled childhood it was told that Darkspawn walked lands once more. Just as thought wandered to possibility, the Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, walked the battlements. Eyes of a hawk he supervised this front for his departed friends son and husband to his daughter, King Cailan.

Dark hair dusted with silver strands of worry rather than age, Loghain was a tall man clad in the armor of a slain Orlesian Chevalier Commander. Only in his early fifties he stood arms crossed in front of him watching the progress below. Beside him a soldier stood with parchment and inked quill taking down a list of commands. “See to that the Ash Warriors have food, those Marbari hounds are a priceless asset to the battle ahead. And give word to Enchanter Uldred that I seek his council later in the day, once he arrives.” With a continence of polished steel the battle-tested man held his concentration on strategies and formations, the very thoughts that would pull them through the nights ahead.

“Is that all my Lord?” The leather capped Soldier queried braking Loghain’s moment of honest thought, causing a flash of sterling blue to fixate on his position. The Teyrn had the eyes a predator. Without word they stripped you down to the bone, revealing your vulnerabilities and the young Ferelden could not be blamed for swallowing the air so hard. “Quite so. Be on your way.” Was all the once Rebel General demanded.

Moments were soon quick to pass as he walked further about the Battlements making private inspection. He’d have no fault. No weakness for his enemies to exploit, and to that Loghain lowered himself to the task. The older man could trust others very little to hold his measure of insight. Thus he would not weaken their positions with oversight.

But alas inspection came to a distracted halt as the Teyrn’s ears heard a shrill holler. A woman’s voice soaked in fear, and all sensibility rose to action as he raced the bannered rails of the wall to look over the inner territories to witness five men circled upon a small woman. From this distance even Loghain could see those daggering ears, an elf? Yes it was. Likely a servant. What about these men? What did he notice? Their armor and the heraldry painted upon shields or pinned to breast… they were Ferelden soldiers. The bundle of whatever the woman was transporting had scattered the ground. Unable to make out the words, the man with a face now painted in disappointment and frustration could hear their hostility.

“Guards!” He called over the banners pointing into the direction, “Halt this horrendous scene, I would have words these men!”

 

[OffToTheRaces]

Three weeks had passed since the old seamstress had abruptly departed from Denerim, taking her boarish son with his chubby, groping fingers along with her – as well as any payments owed to the elves who had been in her employment. A note had been posted on the boarded up windows and doors ‘In Antiva until further notice’ – no forwarding address, no mention of existing orders…no coins. She wasn’t the first to flee in fear of the Blight, and likely wouldn’t be the last – yet another employer gone meant another source of income, however measly it was, was severed from the Alienage.

At first, Este had been too relieved to feel concern. She had worked for Lady Quigley for over a decade, and while the garments were of the highest quality in the capital, they were produced by labors of exploitation that no one cared to acknowledge, if they took the time to even notice. As far as the majority of Denerim was concerned, if the Alienage elves managed to find employment they should be happy. Most businesses kept their elves in backrooms and hidden away – but Lady Quigley boasted about her staff as if she were running a charity, cooing over their ‘nimble fingers’ and how they were perfectly suited for working in textiles. Yet her compassion was ever the façade, and the moment doors were closed the old, prunish woman would be red in the face, squawking demands and berating the smallest deviance from her ‘visions.’ Even worse however was her son, a spoiled oafish boy who had no need to tromp through the Alienage to sate his boredom, as so many children of the upperclass tended to – for he had his own personal selection to prey upon.

Thankfully, though the word would be loosely used, his mother kept a sharp eye on her workers – not for their sake, but for deadlines. His harassment was confined to whispered uncouth commentary and occasionally wandering hands..

Those hands had wandered across Este once while she was retrieving fabric from the basement – low enough in their privileged curiosity to fold her skirts between her thighs, betraying angles and shapes that were not expected to be there.

Andraste or whoever had created her, had blessed Este with feminine features and inclinations to match. Growing up as she began to favor skirts, her Uncle had not dissuaded her. He had already lost too much in his time, and life was difficult enough as it was for their kind– when Estaron had wished to be called Este, he complied..and eventually so did the rest of the community. He would warn her often, however, to keep her secret guarded…the world was not a forgiving place, especially for those who wandered from the ‘norm.’

Lady Quigley’s son had not outed her that day – from shock or contemplation, she would never know, as within the next few days they’d departed from Ferelden. She had saved enough coin that the first two weeks without employment had not been too difficult, but at the start of the third week, her cousin Brea had announced her engagement. Marriage was a community event – and she could not let her favorite cousin’s day be anything but perfect when it arrived.

An offer was posted in the Alienage for jobs to accompany the army and given the coin promised, Este felt that doing laundry for soldiers for a small amount of time would be worth the less than ideal circumstances. Though as she seemed to be given reprieve from one potential disaster, another presented itself almost immediately once they arrived in Ostagar. A group of soldiers had surrounded her while she’d been delivering fresh sheets. Five men, two of which blocked her path forward, one who blocked her steps back, sending her against his chest..

“Now now, what’ve we here?”

“You come to offer relief for the soldiers? Serve the men serving the country?”

“Saving your pretty face”

“From those ghastly beasts”

“Ghastly beasts who’d do ghastly things to a pretty thing like you”

“Why don’t you show us some gratitude?”

“Maybe she wants ghastly things done to her…Seems the sort, doesn’t she”

They reeked of ale; Este’s dark eyes darted around quickly, paying no attention to the increasingly vulgar words, instead looking for a way to escape. One of the soldiers had noticed her lack of response and quickly ‘relieved’ the basket from her hands, tossing it to the bushes as he stepped forward, and before she could protest, his hand moved down to grasp between her legs.

Where Lady Quigley’s son had registered a vacant stare, confusion and then fury rose to the soldier’s face. “Fucking knife-earred wisp!” That bold hand clenched into a fist and collided immediately with Este’s face, knocking into her nose with enough force that within seconds, she tasted blood.

She had screamed, but only realized such when the sound pierced the air. The soldier behind her clasped his hand over her mouth while his comrades closed in around her, the blood from the first blow slicking his fingers to slip over her lips – and in that moment, with her heart already racing, she bit the man’s fingers -- hard.
Howling, he dropped her to the ground and Este tensed, bracing herself for the underside of boots or fists…but nothing came. With her breath clutching in the back of her throat, she looked up in time to see guards with the royal emblems marked upon their armor taking hold of the soldiers. They struggled initially, though only one spit in venom towards her, but something made them all freeze when their attention was directed towards the rail above them…as if sobriety had hit them instantaneously.

With blood still freely pouring down her face, Este’s dark eyes wandered up the wall, fixing upon an older man whom she recognized only as someone who had ridden directly beside the King on their way to Ostagar. While he was focused on the soldiers, she grasped the ground beneath herself to stand, intending to gather up the spilled sheets in the overturned basket, and hurry back to the servant’s area to clean up. As she staggered to her feet, one of the guards wordlessly clutched her by the arm and began to lead her towards the steps.

 

[Quantum Tangle]

Utter disgust wrapped his visage like a damp cloth. The Teyrn was not a sympathetic man put up on his sentimental notions, nor did he romance the Elf as a downtrodden thing. All living things had only their lives to account for. The worthy will climb above their station, and make their name. Though he supposed not all men could be burdened with the notion. But Loghain never permitted ignorance as an excuse, for truly teachable moments come rarely in a life.

Scaling down the battlements the Ferelden General clutched a fist in steel gauntlet as he approached the situation at hand. His face was a determined expression chiseled out of a callous nature. Flanked on either side by Royal guards, he marched upon the ground with complete dominion. The Soldiers were lined up with blades drawn at their back, for it was a serious matter to anger the Lord of Gwaren. Loghain was renown for being a critical taskmaster. No foolishness was permitted in his wake, yet his military record and personal history proved he talked freely regardless, and in this moment no man stood taller than he did, nor with life to stand for it.

Inspecting the men before his approach he’d quickly deduced they were young and stank a poor man’s ale. Had this really been what their military been reduced to? Flagrant drunkards and lechers. “What is this about?” The foul tempered rebel asked them. Blue eyes pressed weight of that question startling one out of their stupor to question, “My lord?” Quickness rose to Loghain’s tongue as he lashed, “Clearly you are not one for answers.” Then a sweep of his gaze fell over the group even the woman cradling her wounded face asking once more, “So who will explain what I am seeing? Or must I take tongues until the smart one speaks up?”

“Teyrn… I mean my Lord… this creature… I...” One stepped forth collapsing to knees castigating himself before the powerful man, though instead of appreciation for his submission Loghain cut his worried ramble short, “Get to it boy.” That seemed to rattle something in the man’s mine as he shooke his head into sobriety, “Sir this thing is a rake in ladies clothing, an unnatural abomination.” Backed by another man (the one who’d momentarily molested Este’s modesty), “It is truth. It is no woman but a man!”

To say the Lord was unimpressed was an overstatement. A momentary touch to his temple Loghain had to massage a knot of patience from his excoriating thoughts. The Soldiers quaked in apprehension as the Teyrn bridged the distance between them, but in a moment their silent fears turned to discomfort and question when he passed them. Instead Loghain put all of his attention on the Elf.

Hand to her chin he inspected with a stern gaze. Turning her face slowly from side to side he fixated on the bleeding, and Este would practically see the man think. His eyes held a certain weight of frustration and when he looked away he addressed the Soldiers, “Even creatures have enough dignity to be addressed as they are, or would you have me believe this one’s nature to be reason for abuse? Or must I call you lot as I see. Because all I can gather is a group of drunken men had cornered the help and laid hands upon them. Am I wrong?” Words cut sharp waiting for answer, but Loghain did not wait for an answer as he centered Este looking into her eyes. Tightening his grip he asked seriously, “I’d know your account of events.”

 

[OffToTheRaces]

At the top of the stairway, the soldiers were set in line with blades threatening any unpermitted movement. As they were herded into place, Este cast a coy, chastising look at the man who seemed to be the leader of their idiotic pack, quirking a dark brow – had they been closer, she would have tutted as if she were scolding a child - in turn, he spat at her feet. The guard holding onto her eased his grip in favor of shoving the ‘slighted’ man back in place with his comrades. There was little concern that any of them would risk leaving, especially as the man who had intercepted the incident approached, flanked by his own guards.

With no kerchief or means to wipe the blood from her face, Este carefully lifted a hand, brushing long fingers across the top of her upper lip – at least it would cease the blood from pouring into her mouth for now. As her fingertip traced towards the edge of her mouth, her eyes met briefly with the older man. Who was he? Clearly, whoever he was, he outranked everyone present by considerable means. His mere presence had stunned the men beside her- she could practically see how they quivered in place. though admittedly there was a bit of a drunken sway to add to their unsteady stances. Este had little understanding of military rankings, but the moment the word ‘Teryn’ was stammered from one of the soldiers lips, even she was able to make a very stunning connection.

Teryn Loghain.

The Father of the Queen – a Hero of Ferelden that her Uncle spoke of with more esteem than any shem, even the King himself.

Her curious pondering was cut quickly short however, as the same soldier who relayed the older man’s identity so curtly, exposed her own. And then another affirmed his claim. Este felt the air suck out from her lungs – a harsh blow that rattled the deep into her bones. Ferelden’s culture was not as –intrigued by those like her, when compared to the other lands of Thedas – even Tevinter was shockingly tolerant. In Orlais or Antiva she would be a coveted status symbol, but the dog lords of Ferelden were far more conservative in their views …at least in the open.

As the Teryn turned towards her, she could practically feel the pyre burning at her feet.

With blush rising to her fair face, her dark eyes widened slightly. Even while she quivered on the inside, she did not avert her attention from the Teryn as he approached her – instead she met the intensity of his stare with her own piercing gaze. Her people were conditioned to cower, to break and bow their heads –to fall to their knees like the soldier who had professed in front of the unimpressed Lord. While silence in some way had aided in her survival over the years, submission had not. When the Teryn touched her chin she lifted her head, following his touch as he examined her and, in turn, she made no subtlety in her expression to show that she was inspecting him as well. The fine lines etched into his features only enhanced the already refined angles of his face - age was no stranger to him, but he undoubtedly handsome.

Her lips parted as he spoke, a visceral display of her own shock to his words. She would never anticipate sympathy - but understanding? From a shem?

When his grip tightened against her chin, her tongue habitually touched to the roof of her mouth, but having noted his irritation towards delays in response, she made no hesitation to speak when addressed,“It is as you observed, My Lord. I was tending to my duties, and these – “ She turned her gaze towards the solders, noting with slight amusement how they all kept their focus forward rather than on her. Looking back towards the Teryn, her blood stained lips quirked faintly, “Soldiers…” She let the word hang in the air, dripping with playful poison, “Took it upon themselves to try and take some reprieve that they felt was owed to them. Apparently an enrollment incentive these days is you get to stick your hand up any skirt you desire, with little care to the one wearing said skirt…Which must have been an exclusive offer to them, or your armies would be much larger.”

 

[Quantum Tangle]

The plight of the Elves was beyond the Teyrn’s concerns. Whatever their peace with the state of the world and the loss of their lands? They were minor. Since man arrived in Ferelden these lands have belonged to them since before the annals and records of history. But this feminine appearing creature before him, her plight was present and not within his permissions to deny. Loghain frowned upon abject cruelty. Never would have dreamed of harming a woman, especially the servants to these lands. Her understood their role just as he understood his in the traditions of this proud nation.

Her gaze though did not avert and flinch. It spoke measures to the man who held the eyes as a gateway to the truth. He could tell a lie from a shifting gaze, he could tell submission and fear when cast down, but he knew when a person did not fear the truth or its consequences when they looked back at him. Piercing him the Teyrn’s lip rose to the subtlest of smiles as she affirmed his suspicion of accounts. He was amused at her candid remarks upon these men, who by the Lord’s view deserved little remorse. Releasing the Elf’s narrow chin his touch trailed subconsciously with an affirming grasp and pat to the shoulder as he swiftly turned to the men before him.

“Do you hear that?” Loghain barked with a sharp sneer waving his hand back in Este’s direction. “The resounding sound of the truth, spoken by an Elf no less.” The comment held the casual weight of prejudice. Something Este would not be unfamiliar with, but never likely used in such a way as to turn it upon its head. Humans often thought of Elf-kind as impish thieves with forked tongues and promises of fool’s gold, yet to hear a Human use the stereotype to guilt and lash these Soldier’s? Oh what a rare treat.

“My lord she lies!” One was quick to speak only to find the General to take very unlordly action and grasp his throat in iron clutch. A quick choke of air and sputter stopped the Soldier’s declaration only to find a rather vexed expression staring him down. “Bite your tongue boy, or I would have it severed from you.” It was a threat. Surely this was evident, but there was a certain weight that told all that it wouldn’t be first tongue Loghain had taken. His grip tightened as he pushed the Soldier back on his heels so he could feel the firm poke of a blade against his leathers. “Your forefather’s did not suffer the Orlesians so that you may piss on their legacy. And I did not ask you for the truth!”

With a firm release the sterling blue of his gaze cast on the rest of them as he was quick to recount history, “Because truth is when I marched against the Chevaliers I did not tolerate such distasteful action in my ranks. Women and servants are not property to be handled without care. Or do you respect the freedoms your mother pained in labor for simply to birth disappointment?” One would think that the Soldier’s would stay quiet, but fear had a way to loosen the tongue. Eyes rattled and turned about with a panic unable to hold a gaze with the Teyrn. “That thing isn’t a woman!” The primary abuser cried out only to find Loghain’s gauntlet pressed to shoulder, pushing down, and while he tried to stay afoot he collapsed under the pain of his Lord’s grip.

Brought to knee he was backhanded and manhandled to look directly at Este, her wound, her discontent. Holding the Soldier’s face the Teyrn hissed viciously, “Not a woman? What is she then? She did not ask for you, nor beg, nor plead…” Grasping the man’s jaw with a fierce centering shake he answered his own question, “An Elf, a Servant, and for all accounts during these trying times a patriot in service to the King’s Army that is what I see. And I would have you strung from your necks if in another time, but you were fortunate to be born with your freedom, boy. Something your father’s were not. Because of men who thought as you do, imposing their will masked as authority. Raping and butchering the innocent… like animals. But we are not beasts, we are Fereldens.”

For the second time a person was released from his grasp, but this time Loghain shoved away in disgust letting the man press into the fresh mud. Looking to Este he closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself. Waving his hands before him he gritted his teeth and asked the Elf clearly, “For all this claiming of what and who you are, what do you claim? I would have these men regard you with respect before being caged for insubordination.”

 

[OffToTheRaces]

As the Teryn’s hand eased away, she kept her chin lifted; regarding him still with thinly veiled curiosity, dark eyes gleaming with intrigue, observing that subtle smile as a glimpse underneath his polished exterior. His hand moved to her shoulder, and when that touch withdrew the face of authority resumed, hardening any softness with which he had regarded her.

Surely everyone wore a mask in some respect – not as blatant as the Orlesians of course, who accessorized the deceit of their intentions and emotions with ornate disguises…but rather in the sense that the Teryn, while his dominant airs may indeed reach down to his core, would likely not permit something as perceptibly ‘vulnerable’ as a smile to be seen by just anyone.

Este smiled to herself, feeling very much the thief that fueled the stereotypes of her kind.

Her inner musings were distracted however, at the sound of guttural protests and breath being denied – her attention returned to the line of soldiers, in time to see one of them nearly lifted from the ground with the Teryn’s hand gripped tightly around his throat. Even the guards who stood close by were alarmed by the excessiveness of their Lord’s actions, not that the men were undeserving of any extent of punishment, nor would they ever question his decisions, but that it was seemingly in defense of an elf was unexpected.

Only once before had a human defended her, for something far less severe and in a manner far less intense - yet still, she had been left stunned by the encounter. A broad shouldered woman had knocked into her while crossing one of the busy roads in the Capital. In her attempt to avoid the woman's path, Este had stepped in a small puddle and, much to the horror of the Lady, spattered the hem of her garish gown...barely. Though one would gather from the way she shrieked that the entire garment had been ruined. Red faced and ready to cause a scene, the woman had barely a chance to cluck when a stranger intercepted. The recent rainfall has been a blessing from the Maker, has it not? His deep voice and sudden presence had caught the Lady off guard, enough that he was able to place a dark hand on Este's side to gather her on her way, using himself as a shield to deflect the woman's wrath. The moving crowd had whisked her along before she could get a good look at the man, but as she glanced over her shoulder, he had nodded warmly in her direction.

As the soldier was dropped to the ground, no one was more astounded by the situation at hand than Este.

“To their credit, my Lord, they are not entirely incorrect with their claims…” She spoke up again when addressed, not dwelling on particulars, believing that the intentions of her words could be easily sorted out without needing to detail the nature between her thighs, “but if I am to be regarded in any way, I believe it should be by my name…which is Este,”

Her introduction was clearly not directed towards the cowering soldiers, who had at this point withdrawn into themselves in utter anguish now that sobriety had truly set in. Rather, she moved her hands down to lightly grip the deep blue fabric of her skirt, curtsying formally as she offered her name to the Teryn.