I started writing this (somewhat self-indulgent) fanfic because I was disappointed by the limited relationship between Leliana's songs and the central storyline. I wanted bardsong to matter, dammit! To that end, I actually have some music composed for Kaedeth, unfortunately plans to have a friend record her ballads fell through. Maybe someday...
A fanfic featuring:
Kaedeth - a bard from Demerim's elven alienage (name stolen/borrowed with permission from Agelade).
Nessa - New Commander of the Grey Wardens, from the elven mage storyline. Her name is presumably short for something more elf-like.
and Alistair - Ferelden's new King. Unmarried, but romantically involved with Nessa.
This story starts approximately nine months after the archdemon Urthemiel is slain.
Kaedeth knew that she had an unusual way with people. Day in and day out, men, women, and children impulsively opened up their hearts to her -it happened much too frequently to be normal. Famously private individuals would meet Kaedeth and quickly find themselves gushing intensely personal information. If Kaedeth was lucky, they would go on their merry way and she would never have to see them again. If not, those past conversations could inspire a wealth of awkward encounters inthe future. Kaedeth had grown used to the unpleasant silences, even the odd death threat. That being said, she was unprepared to hear out this...list of grievances from Ferelden's new king.
"These aren't women I'm being asked to marry. They're darkspawn in women's clothing!" This was a public function, a celebration thrown to greet aTevinter ambassador, so Alistair kept his voice to a low whisper. Whispering didn't make the conversation topic any more appropriate though, and Kaedeth was hoping for an excuse to disengage as soon as possible. "Just minutes ago the Arlessa du Roche invited me to her summer estate. She wants to go out riding together, so she can give me 'an intimate tour of the property.' The Arlessa feels that, as King, I 'deserve a chance to inspect the nation's finer assets.' But wait, it gets better. The wicked, EVIL woman is already married...and when I suggested that her husband might not think highly of me salting his oats, she actually smiled! 'My husband is a very oooooooold man.' She said. 'If he were to suddenly fall over dead, of course I would be devastated, but nobody would be surprised...and it would leave me free to remarry.'"
"I don't mean to interrupt, your Majesty," Kaedeth cut in as soon as she dared, "but I don't want to monopolize your time. After all, it is my job to be entertaining your guests."
"You...oh, of course. I'm sorry! I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't even know you and here I am assaulting you with the disgusting details of my personal life. It really isn't proper." Alistair spoke quickly, barely pausing for a breath of air. "Normally I would discuss anything that I find this...maddening...with Nessa, but it's unfair to complain to her about this. It just wouldn't be right."
The bard smiled and backed away, hurriedly returning to the little raised platform where her lute rested. As Kaedeth sank back onto her hideously ornate (and terribly uncomfortable) stool, she realized just how badly
she had handled the situation. Here she was, in desperate need of influential friends, and for a moment she had the ear of the King! And she blew it! At the very least she could have made a good impression on
the King, maybe inspired him to invite her back for another performance. Instead, Kaedeth had looked uncomfortable and run away the first chance she got. Was there a bard in all of Thedas with less tact?
Kaedeth was an atypical bard and hardly a born performer. Despite showing the promise of musical talent at an early age, Kaedeth never garnered much flattery. She grew up a mess of elbowsand angles, topped off by a nest of pale yellow hair. No matter how she practiced posture, no matter how many hours she wasted learning
dance, Kaedeth remained hopelessly awkward. It was only a few short months ago that Kaedeth had blossomed into womanhood, and there, suddenly, she found balance. All of the sudden, compliments started coming Kaedeth's way. People were now interested in watching her play; she was no longer shoved into dark corners where she was expected to hide while her music trickled out into the open. So Kaedeth was more than a little shocked when the King of Ferelden stopped to offer her a few warm compliments during a break between songs. In fact, Kaedeth positively glowed at his praise. Unfortunately, those compliments turned into a conversation that went downhill all too quickly...and Kaedeth found herself hurrying back to her abominable stool. Kaedeth sighed, turning to her instrument. She was tense. This - her first performance at the palace - was no small achievement. It would be silly to dwell on the negatives during such a momentous occasion. Warming up her lute and adjusting it for tune, Kaedeth relaxed, letting muscle memory take over. The instrument was the work her father, who happened to be master craftsman. Tonight the instrument purred at the feel of her touch. Her lute was ready to sing,and so Kaedeth would oblige.
"Under Arlath'an trees
lies a god-child born
'neath Yggdrasil's canopy
might of ancients arise!
From death I come,
a demon.
For life I'll take
my own child
to steal, to raise, to nurse that power of old."
Alistair stood at attention, his brow furrowing as he took in the content of the song. Nessa, the King's friend and
companion, did not find comfort in the bard's words either. She found still less comfort in Alistair's reaction to them. While the sight of Alistair thinking no longer signaled a potential oncoming Apocalypse (he had spent more and more time in thought since his coronation), it did not bode well.
The bard did not close this number her typical smile and a flourish. Instead, as Kaedethattempted to stand, her already pale complexion took on a sickly gray cast. Knees trembling, the bard collapsed. For a silent moment, the crowd in the great hall simply watched. Even those standing near the bard were too stunned to make a move to help.
Kaedeth awoke to a lavish bed, only to find herself unsettled by Nessa's prying gaze.
"When I set the wheels in motion to have you play at the palace, I had the feeling you would cause a stir. Such
is the way, everywhere you perform." Nessa addressed the bard, watching Kaedeth settle into an uncomfortable consciousness. "But I never anticipated you would bring this level of drama."
"My Lady, I...can't apologize enough for any distress I may have caused..." As Kaedeth's awareness grew, she tried to assess her situation. She was being addressed by a fellow elf, but this particular elf was clearly not an entertainer or servant. Dressed like a mage, the elf appeared completely at home in the palace. Could this be the Commander of the Grey Wardens? Nessa Suriyana was as famous as the King himself. If this was the Warden, what on earth could she want with Kaedeth?
"You don't need to apologize. You may be the key to solving a problem that's been nagging at me for months."
"My Lady? I don't understand." Kaedeth sat up, alert now.
"There was some information that may prove useful to me in that last tune you played."
"Milady, I don't know how to explain this, but I don't even remember what I was singing...before everything went black that is." Kaedeth was growing distressed. This woman was clearly interested in things that
were best left unmentioned. "Sometimes the music simply takes me."
Nessa eyed the bard curiously. "Surely you're aware of the rumors about you. They say that you can tell the future with your songs."
"No...I can't...it's not prophecy or magic...nothing like that, really!" This conversation was venturing into very dangerous territory. People tended to associate telling the future with all sorts of murky magic. "Sometimes when I speak with someone I can feel...strong intentions towards them. Emotions, directed their way. Voices of
anger, sadness, even joy. Then, when I start to play, it's those voices that ring out rather than my own. It's very hard to explain," Kaedeth continued, "but it's not telling the future by any means. I just...amplify voices that others can't hear. Or choose not to hear." She shrugged.
"You needn't be so worried. I'm not about to tell the Chantry you're spouting heresy, or accuse you of practicing magic outside the Circle, or any such nonsense. I'm curious about your gift because I believe it can be used to seriously aid this kingdom. If you're willing to be honest and forthcoming with me, I will be more than
happy to see how the kingdom's resources can help you."
"But...what would you have me do?"
"Travel with me to Tevinter Imperium. I'm going there to make a call on a rather important friend
of mine. I'll need you to keep your ears open for these...voices or
whatever it is you hear."
"I'm sorry my Lady, the chances that I would be able to help you are slim at best - you see, I can't control
this talent of mine. It just happens. And even if I could be of aid to you...I cannot leave Denerim."
"Why can you not leave Denerim? And what can I do to change your mind?" Nessa asked politely,
already knowing the answers.
"My father is...unwell...and unable to care for himself. I simply cannot leave him alone. Not for any
price Milady."
"I'd imagine your young apprentice Revion should be able to attend to your father, if I provide an ample allowance and a healer to look in on him occasionally? Besides, if I have you by my side I won't need Revion to send me copies of every ditty you play."
"Revion? Sending you my work? But I thought that he was receiving a commission to copy my songs for the Royal Archive..."
"Mmhmm. The Royal Archive happens to reside in my study. Of course, young Revion doesn't know that."
"Oh." Kaedeth answered quietly.
"I am a healer of some skill myself. Perhaps I could see your father before we leave. I might be able to do him some good."
"I'm sorry. It's more complicated than that. My father took ill when sickness hit the alienage, but he recovered...physically at least. I believe it was losing my sister to the Tevinter slavers that really pushed him over the edge. I can't leave Ferelden. If losing one daughter did this to him, losing two..."
"What if I could get your sister back?"
For a moment there was silence, then Kaedeth scoffed. "You say that so easily, as though it means nothing to
you...which may very well be true." The months of frustration and hopeless, hopeless rage crept into Kaedeth's voice. She shook her head. "For someone with such a wealth of information, you know nothing
of what you speak. It would take a miracle to bring back Faelwen."
"I'm sorry if I've offended you." Nessa responded calmly, not backing off an inch despite the bard's agitated state. "Yes, I realize retrieving your sister is no small task. Bringing back those lost to the Tevinter slavers would require money, contacts, and months of heavy-handed negotiations. But as an elf with some political sway, I've
felt...obligated to make sure that the damage done to the alienage under Loghain's rule is undone. After all, who else is there to look after elven interests?" Nessa shrugged. "Alistair is an excellent King, but he has a great deal on his plate."
"What are you saying?"
"I've been working to get your sister - and a number of other unfortunate elves - back to their homes for months now. It's been a long and dubious process, not to mention something of a drain on Ferelden's treasury. We've been keeping it quiet because...well...the project might not turn out to be so popular with the humans of
Ferelden. Some would be fine with it, I suppose, but still, it's probably better if no one knows that they're being taxed to pay for the rescue of elven slaves."
Kaedeth was speechless. This was...so much more than she had ever dared hope for...and here she had
just been terribly rude to the woman responsible. "My lady, I'm
sorry..."
Nessa pursed her lips.
"No! That's not...I mean to apologize for being rude - I'll help you. I'll be happy
to help you."
There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer, the King strode into the room. "So do you make a habit of ending your performances like that? Telling the future and passing out on the floor?" he addressed Kaedeth, who, if possible, was now even more flustered.
Nessa answered for her. "We've been through this already, your Majesty. Kaedeth doesn't tell the future. She hears voices."
Alistair tilted his head to the side and thought about this for a moment. "Flemeth's then?"
Nessa nodded. "We don't know for certain, but who else would have that sort of motivation?"
"And you...have no clue who I'm talking about." Alistair noted, watching Kaedeth's puzzled reaction to the name. "Right, well. Curious though I am, I suppose it would be unnecessarily harsh to grill you with questions of my own, especially when Nessa here no doubt began ferreting information out of you the moment you regained to
consciousness."
Nessa smiled at Alistair. "I'll report to youwith everything I've learned the moment we're finished."
"Excellent!" Alistair looked to Kaedeth again. "Can I expect to see
you fully recovered by tomorrow morning?"
"Of course, your Majesty."
"You'll join us at breakfast then?"
"I...would be honored, your Majesty."
Alistair shook his head, perhaps still bothered by being addressed with such pomp. He absentmindedly tapped the door frame on his way out.
"I see you've met the King." Nessa commented when he was out of earshot. "He...introduced
himself." Nessa frowned. "That's unusual. These days he goes out of his way to avoid speaking with nearly everyone of the feminine persuasion."
"He mentioned."
Nessa stared at Kaedeth.
"People tend to speak more of their mind then they aught around me." Kaedeth explained in a rush. "Much more. My father claims that it's part of my gift."
"Really?"
"Most times I just wish I had a gift that would make people keep their bloody mouths shut!" Kaedeth made a disgusted face. "I can think of more than once instance when I learned more than anyone could possibly want to know."
"I can see how that would be a mixed blessing. However, it could be very useful if you were say, attempting to gather information."
"I suppose."
The room grew quiet.
"I've given you quite a bit think about." Nessa breached the silence. "We can speak more of this in the morning, but I think you understand now that I can help you a great deal. I do need your help with this issue up North. Our trip may be essential to keeping the status quo of Ferelden intact, and the current leadership of our country benefits you...perhaps more so than most."
"My lady, if you believe that I can be of help, I will be glad to offer my services."
"Well then, thank you Kaedeth, and good night."
Nessa shut the door quietly and Kaedeth sat alone, staring into the fire of the oil lamp that hung nearby.
Nessa found Alistair in the bedroom. He was sitting in his favorite chair and staring at a tapestry on the wall, clearly not actually seeing it. He jumped a bit when Nessa put her hand on his shoulder.
"I uhmmm...well." Alistair shook his head, trying to clear away the fog. "I got them to warm up some of the mulled wine that you love so much. Here." He stood up and poured for Nessa. Steamrose as he handed her the goblet. "I'm starting to think we should have killed Flemeth when we had the chance."
"We didn't know how to kill her. Still don't in fact. Did you really want that crazy old bat coming back from the grave, dead set on making your life a living hell?"
"When you put it that way..."
"Besides, it would have been rude to attack her without provocation. She did save our lives."
"...only because it was in her best interests."
"Either way, I tend to appreciate that sort of thing."
"Right."
"You know," Nessa moved on, changing the topic slightly, "Kaedeth would make an excellent court
bard, provided she manages to make it back from Arlath'an alive. By the way, I've convinced her to come along." Nessa frowned, thinking over the logistics of the trip ahead. "She's agreed to help us, at any
rate."
"Trip to Arlath'an..." the King looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, that Arlath'an! Great! So when do we leave?"
"There's no 'we' this time Alistair. Even if all goes well, this trip will take months."
"If the trip doesn't go well, it could have disastrous effects on all of Thedas. It would be irresponsible for me
to stay here courting nobles while Flemeth does whatever evil-demonic-thingy she's planning to do."
"Alistair, even if you manage to sneak away without the entire kingdom knowing something's amiss, your presence is conspicuous at best. If Morrigan catches even awhiff of you on the wind she's liable to disappear into the wilds for good. Think about it! The last thing we need is for Morrigan to be so focused on the threat you pose that she wanders straight into her mother's clutches."
"So I'm supposed to stay home and look pretty while my child is stolen away by a body-snatching witch-demon."
"I was thinking you might want to organize a sort of elite Templar task force that can be on the move quickly once we manage to locate Flemeth. But there's no reason you can't look pretty while you're doing it."
"Not an option. This is my child and I won't just stay back while he...or she needs me."
"Flemeth isn't an immediate threat to the child. She won't be able to use her -or him- as a host for at least a
decade. Right now we to find Morrigan and whatever information about Flemeth she's managed to piece together. We need to figure out how to kill Flemeth, not just set her back for a few years."
"That's...logical. But I still don't like it. I'm going with you." Alistair said, his voice lacking its earlier conviction.
"I'll tie you to the bed and leave you here for the noblewomen to fight over." Nessa threatened.
"You wouldn't." Alistair answered, a bit nervous. "You're much too possessive to leave me defenseless with
those vultures."
"Well, I plan to have my way with you first."
"I think we need to have a discussion about my boundaries. I'm a sensitive boy you know. Easily bruised, easily traumatized."
"Mmhmmm."
Slipping behind Nessa, Alistair placed his arms around her waist and pulled her into bed. "That smile of yours is much too evil for my comfort. I don't think I can let you out of bed any time inthe near future. You might get your hands on some rope." Alistair moved his hands downward, and the pair laughed in the darkness.
"Nessa?" Nessa shifted grumpily. It was clearly still nighttime; the palace was asleep. "You don't think he'll have creepy yellow eyes like Morrigan do you?"
"What?"
"My...child. You don't think..." Nessa groaned. "Flemeth only had girls, so far as I know. Your child is very likely a girl."
"A girl..." Alistair stopped speaking for a moment. The thought of having a daughter suddenly made having a child so much more real. "I suppose you're right. Well. I'll love her even if she does look
like Morrigan."
"Mmmmmph." Nessa waited. Alistair had a habit of following up nonsensical remarks with less comfortable topics.
"Nessa, I hope you won't be cross with me, but I had a look at some of the books lying about your study. The books on the Old Gods...I was wondering what made of them. And...I hate to keep bringing this up but...what do you think it all means for my child?"
"Given that the archdemon Urthemiel was once worshiped as the Dragon of Beauty, there's a decent chance that your child will be good-looking, at least."
"Oh really? Well, while that's nice...you know that's hardly what I meant."
"It's hard to say anything for sure."
"Now you're making me nervous."
"It's possible...your child won't exactly play well with others." That was putting it mildly. According
to legend, the Old Gods were at odds with the Maker himself. There was a decent chance that Alistair's child would attempt to bring about an Apocalypse. On the other hand, Alistair's child was also something of a
miracle. If the child was everything Morrigan had promised, and the soul of an archdemon had really been cleansed of its Taint, that could mean there was hope of eradicating the darkspawn Taint permanently. At
the very least, the prospect deserved further investigation.
"What do you mean by that? What is it you're not telling me?"
"Alistair, you're going to have to trust my judgment on this." Nessa got out of bed, moving to the wardrobe, where she knew her robe would be hanging. "It will be best for everyone if you aren't forced to choose between being a King to Ferelden or a father to your child."
"You're saying that my child might pose a threat to the kingdom...You'reworried that you might have to kill him."
"I don't know that!" Nessa turned on Alistair, losing her calm. "The information I have is nothing more than scraps! I have no clue what we're dealing with here. You know I would never make a decision like that before I've had a chance to assess the situation. Even then..."
"And if you have no other choice?"
"If I'm forced to choose between letting your child live and letting your child end the world?" Nessa shook her head and moved towards the door. "I'll be in the study, searching what little information I have for a way out of this mess."
"Nessa, wait." Alistair paused, unsure. "It's very late. Don't you think we should at least try to sleep?"
"Will you be able to sleep? Aftereverything we just said?"
Alistair shook his head.
"I also plan to get out the good whiskey." She gave him a wry smile.
"The bottle you keep locked away in your desk?"
"That would be the one." Nessa stood in the open door, framed by shadows. "You're welcome to join me. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a little help with my research."
Alistair nodded. "I think I'll do that."
Modifié par Jibbsey, 10 juillet 2010 - 05:33 .
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