7 réponses à ce sujet

[tklivory]

It is time! The sequel to Rise of the Wolf, and the first volume of the planned multi-volume Beyond Thedas series, will now be posted! This work is a joint project between myself and BSN user Danijou, and is the result of well over a year of collaborative writing. It is a sprawling epic of an AU Thedas which starts ten years after the end of the Fifth Blight. The cast consists of both canon and original characters, and the journey spans the breadth of Thedas, and beyond.

.~^~.

Summary:

Arlathan was no more, fallen into the depths below after the might of Tevinter swept over it in a mighty wave. The nation of Elvhenan was shattered, weakened from one of the greatest empires ever to arise on Thedas to a pathetic collective of slaves dispersed without care throughout the Imperium which now stretched from shore to shore. Yet the greatest of events leave ripples, and even the smallest of ripples can form into a tidal wave which will change the course of events on Thedas… forever.

Long after the decline of the Tevinter Imperium, the ripples begin anew in Val Royeaux when the arrival of two women attract the attention of the now-retired Bard Ives Durante. His curiosity sparks a chain of events that will lead from the Grey Warden’s Keep all the way to the Great Hall of Arlathan. Heroes and villains, gods and demons: all will be drawn in, and none shall emerge unscathed. From the bards of Orlais to the highest courts of Ferelden, the ripples will pull even the most powerful into their inexorable wake.

[tklivory]

Chapter 1: Whispers in the Wind


The song of a flute danced in the wind.

Val Royeaux danced along with it, packed full of people as they went about their business. As the oppressive heat of summer slowly gave way before the cool crispness of fall, the residents of the capital city of Orlais took advantage of the break in heat to pour into the streets, indulging in any manner of activities which the sun's hot beams had prevented. Money changed hands as baubles were purchased, cool drinks were poured, and information was exchanged. It was Orlais, and that meant that words were as valuable - if not more - as the wine which usually accompanied them. In the distance flashed the bright white of the Cathedral's spires and dome where it lay at the heart of the Chantry. Despite the distance which lay between this unimportant market square and the expansive center of Val Royeaux, the faint strains of the Chant reached the ears of those who drank, and laughed, and lived.

And the persistent joy of the flute celebrated with all of them.

It was a cheerful melody, full of life and wonder, and those who came into its power would smile as a memory came to them of a happier time: a beautiful spring day, the chuckle of a child, or perhaps even the light touch of a lover. Those who sought the source of their sudden good mood found a sight common in Val Royeaux: a busker, faded hat on the curb beside him, playing for a few coppers so that he could buy hot mulled wine for the night before the chill of the coming autumn could settle into his bones.

Such was the skill of the minstrel that there was even some silver mixed in with the copper in the hat, and the music distracted his audience enough they could be forgiven for not noticing the way his eyes moved over the crowd, as if he were searching for someone. When he wrapped up his song with a flourish and a bow, there was a smattering of applause as he swept up his hat and collected his earnings, and then he was dismissed from the minds of the people to whom he had given a small measure of joy. Life moved on, after all, regardless of the little distractions that came up along the way.

Ives Durante smiled as he placed the faded hat upon his head and tucked his flute into a case whose fine silver engraving belied the ragged clothes and smudged skin. As it was, he secured his earnings into a leather pouch beneath his tunic and began to follow the path laid by his eyes, fixed as they were on two figures working their way slowly through the crowd.

His sources had been correct: two women, both seemingly human - one shorter than most elves and the other wearing a cloak with a hood that kept her face in a perpetual shadow. He'd seen enough of a glimpse under that hood to be almost certain that she was one of the ones he sought, and no other pair had come through the square that was even close to the description he'd committed to his memory.

"Ah, lala, you are rather good at not being noticed," he murmured softly. Unlike most women of his acquaintance - outside of his chosen profession, naturally - who wore dresses designed to enhance their figure and dressed their hair to attract the eye, these two could almost have passed for men, with their bland green and grey trews and tunics and hair bound so securely and subtly that one had to look to see that the short one had quite a lot of hair hidden under the collar of her cloak. Such a petite thing, yet her eyes constantly moved about the area, and she walked not with the steps designed to move the hips in a way to enchant a man but with the stride of one accustomed to carrying a weapon upon her back. "And you are good at seeing what is around you." He calculated their trajectory. "Ah, but you are still lost. Perhaps I should take pity on you before the dark comes and the true predators of the city emerge."

------

Read the rest of Whispers in the Wind at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

Modifié par tklivory, 22 mai 2013 - 03:25 .

[tklivory]

Chapter 2: Arrow in the Dark


Ives found himself frustrated again and again over the next few weeks. Though Isabeau should not have been difficult to track down - he was a Grey Warden, after all, and she but a recruit of the Order - it soon became clear to him that her ability to evade scrutiny was polished to a shine. Though not a complete hermit, she tended to avoid any gatherings or events which did not require her presence, including meals, one of his preferred times to catch a target unawares. Livilla was equally talented at avoiding notice, and since she was a servant, he had even fewer avenues to exploit to arrange time with her.

On the other hand, Ives prided himself on his resourcefulness. A Court Bard - well, former Court Bard - would never so easily admit to defeat in the Game. Since the lovely duo seemed disinclined to reveal their secrets to him, it was time to wander down other avenues in search of what he needed, and so his feet took him to the bowels of the Keep, or ‘the Deeps’ as it was affectionately called by the Wardens of Val Royeaux.

Buried within the warren of corridors that threaded the gut of the Keep, his destination lay in the middle of those areas central to making life work smoothly: the rare hot springs which had been turned into soaks and baths; the steamy laundry rooms through which endless amounts of clothing passed each week; the vast storage space which likely had items left over from the Fourth Blight; and, amidst it all, the work rooms for the servants as they went about their duties.

Ives smiled as he remembered indulging in other activities in the more remote areas of the basement warren when he had first become Warden, before he had devoted himself to his delightful wood nymph. Ah, how matters had changed. The man who had once swore an oath to his father that he would never have responsibilities now fretted himself on a daily basis about the safety and security of his rather large, extended family of Grey Wardens.

His feet took him by instinct to the room he sought, one of the cheerier rooms in the place thanks to the woman who ruled it like an Empress. His favorite source for gossip could generally be found in her customary habitat: the sewing room, where all uniforms and clothes went for repair. Of course, given that weapons practice was a large part of Keep life, Marie had touched everyone’s clothing and practice armor at least once, and her place as Housekeeper gave her access to the constant ebb and flow of rumors and speculation. A stout, no-nonsense woman with plenty of gray in her tightly-lashed hair and laugh lines on her face, she sat ensconced on her padded chair, needle dancing and feet spread out on a nearby stool.

Padding up behind her on silent feet, he was about to reach out for her oh-so-tempting braid when she said, “I wouldn’t do that, my lad.” Her voice, still thick with the burr of Nevarra, nevertheless held amusement. “Unless you wish parts of your clothes to be too tight, that is.”

“Ah, lala, you are too clever for me by half,” he said with a grin as he walked around her chair. “It is my everlasting tragedy that I cannot tickle more than your fancy, so I am forced to touch of you what I can.” So saying, he took her hand and placed a resounding smack on the back of it before collapsing into a nearby pile of clothes.

------

Read the rest of Arrow in the Dark at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

[tklivory]

Chapter 3: With this Blood...


A moan echoed in the room, woefully not of the fun sort.

Ives started from the half-sleep he’d settled into during his self-imposed vigil over Livilla and Isabeau, shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. His eyes automatically sought his two charges, and he surged from his chair when he realized one of them was moving. Thrashing might have been a more adequate description, her limbs twitching and flailing as if she were wrapped in the throes of a nightmare.

Quickly moving to Livilla’s bedside, he knelt and offered what comfort he could, moving a hand over her hair and singing a soothing song, hoping to alleviate her stress. The terrible dreams of Grey Wardens were very familiar to him, after all, since he had experienced them so many times himself. Given the nature of the magic taint that ran through her veins, he was not at all surprised that she would experience them even before the Joining.

Then he heard it, and almost felt it: an odd keening sound, just on the cusp of hearing, echoing in the brightly lit room. He glanced around to make sure none of the candles had failed and no shadows had appeared. As he turned his head, his ears told him the source of the sound was, in fact, Livilla herself.

More specifically, the amulet around her neck.

As he pondered the oddity, the keening grew in volume, and he winced when the sound exerted a heavy pressure on his eardrums. He also noticed that as the volume increased, so too did Livilla’s thrashing, her face contorting as if in pain. Worried, he reached out to touch the amulet, though the plan of what to do with it was still unformulated when his fingers wrapped around it.

The growl of a bear echoed shockingly loud around him, and abruptly he was flung across the room. The sensation of a large animal grabbing his collar and throwing him would not leave his mind even though no such beast was in sight.

------

Read the rest of With This Blood... at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

Modifié par tklivory, 03 juin 2013 - 03:41 .

[tklivory]

Chapter 4: The Noble Knight


The lance drew closer, the fierce drumming of hooves enough to throw even the most experienced of warriors into an anxious frenzy. Though the dusky blue ribbon danced in his sights along the haft of the lance, there was something in the air, a tang of ominence. Something was simply wrong. His intuition proved true - his opponent's lance slipped, its angle changed, and the wound that followed seared and strained unlike anything he had felt before.

Jean woke with a start, clutching his right shoulder. Though the pain still echoed from that near-crippling wound most of a decade ago, it was not the source of the hot tears that dripped from his weary eyes. He sighed, looking to the window, then to the vacant bed on his right, and again to the window. The night had not been what he could call restful, and now it was nearly dawn. Ives hadn't returned, which likely meant his business with Artana the previous evening had extended to the morning - a not unusual occurrence. Wicking the tears one more time with his calloused thumb, he resigned himself to waking and tossed aside his tangled blankets.

Normally he would be sure his bedroom was in proper order before leaving - at the least more so than to lovingly adjust the small prayer book on his nightstand, fingers lingering over the dusky blue ribbon which he used as its bookmark. Normally he would prepare himself for a brisk morning routine of some sort to keep himself spry. Today he could only watch the sun rise between the buildings of the Orlesian skyline and see her face in the beams. Today he dressed ritualistically, drawing finery from the dresser top where his brother had left it neatly folded for him. It all took so much longer than it should, his usual energy and lust for life left in the Fade upon his waking.

------

Read the rest of The Noble Knight at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

[tklivory]

Chapter 5: Secrets Overheard


Ives Durante had learned quite some many years ago that he was a very persuasive man. Lying had nothing to do with how persuasive he was, nor was it that he was pushy or manipulative. If anything it was how harmless and trustworthy he appeared that gleaned him the most information. That aloof touch, the hint of a man who didn't care about anything in the world - a dumb, good-hearted fool.

Honestly, he was none of those things, one way or the other. In his early years as a bard it gave him quite a bit of trouble to be so poor at lying and have such an identity crisis. The identity came quickly when forced, but it was harder to learn something against his morals. With age he had established how to twist truths, but he still never really blatantly lied.

Well... Almost never. There were things in life that wouldn't settle for simply not being mentioned. Someone would try to find out and someone would, inevitably, find something, and thus you'd have to lie if that something needed to continue in secret. He had more of these things in his life than he would like to admit, and it seemed not a single acquaintance or lover escaped such a treatment, which in turn made him doting and apologetic for guilt they had no inkling existed.

In short, no one saw Ives Durante as a threat, and hardly any could put his face to a crime other than general debauchery and public inebriation followed by indecent exposure. Perhaps that was why he found larceny to be an almost entirely risk-free endeavor. Knowing the thieves in Orlais was a fantastic way to know the nobles in Orlais, after all, even if his younger self from ten years ago would never have dreamed that his dalliance with the Thieves' Guild would elevate him so.

------

Read the rest of Secrets Overheard at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

[tklivory]

Chapter 6: My Gift to You

"I saw the schedules downstairs." Ives hovered near the door to Artana's office, leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed. "Amour, while I can understand you are at the height of a disagreement with her, I think that giving Livilla duty to clean the mess hall was ..."

"I needed another. If she is concerned for the plight of Orlesian Elvhen, then she can do as they must do."

Ives sighed. She hadn't even looked up from her paperwork. "... I was going to say blatant, but I think that you are well aware of that fact. I truly do hate to be the one to wonder it, but don't you think that perhaps this has become a little petty? I think you are a marvelous thief and that you have nothing to fret about on the matter of being caught. Isn't a difference in opinion something that should be accepted?"

He could tell she wasn't buying in. Actually, he even suspected she was about to break her quill. With a frown on his face and weight on his heart, Ives knew he would need to voice some unpopular criticism. "... I understand. You acted out of character in an impulse, and now you are fighting to be consistent. That is the root of this, right? You're perfectly entitled to have been angry. Even I was angry." She snuffed, and he knew it was disbelieving. It was true. He didn't often get angry, and sometimes when he did, it was almost impossible to tell. Ives sighed. "I know that you can move beyond it. I love you."

Since Artana clearly needed time to consider it herself, Ives turned to leave. If only there were a way to intervene before Livilla had to-

He snapped his fingers. Marie. As head Housekeeper of the Keep, he would be able to beg a favor of her without alerting Artana to the change in her orders, and then, perhaps, Livilla would be more amenable to a suggestion of a truce. Swiftly his steps took him down to the sewing room, where Marie could be found during most of the day, but they faltered when he heard a familiar voice echo down the hall.

------

Read the rest of My Gift to You at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr

[tklivory]

Chapter 7: Dance With A Shadow

His feet moved him along a restless path after he left the Keep as he pondered where to go. Ives needed to wander a while, delving into memories of his past as he began to awaken his inner Bard. There had been a hundred times where he would have preferred a party to the thought of stability and a warm bed - lust instead of love, and the rush of romance instead of the steadiness of devotion. It was strange how foreign the notion felt now, adoring Artana as he did, to attend such a party. Maybe that was why he’d decided to try and find one, to see if he could enjoy it without the intent of stealing away a night with a pretty little book of which he’d never get to know more than the cover.

The Garden district always had a party, the sound of music and the aroma of wine seeming to hover over it on a crisp fall night such as this. After a long, meandering walk over canals and through the warm, flickering glow of street lamps, Ives paused a moment, trying to decide which party should be graced with his presence. On a whim, he picked a passerby - a tall man with blond hair and a ****ade of bright feathers on his hat - and followed him until he led them both to an open gate with lights and flowers and laughter.

Ives began to mingle, taking in the sights and sounds as he moved through the crowd. He quickly found a number of former acquaintances and was pulled into several conversations - and had to demur as many polite refusals to the offers for more - before ending up under a tree of lavender-colored flowers where some people had gathered around a game of dice that had, apparently, reached high stakes. Not in money, no, but in other things: truths, lies, dares, and taunts. A common enough pastime for Orlesian nobles who had outgrown their teens but had not yet acquired the responsibility of their own houses or Court titles yet. He recognized many of them - had, in fact, read the covers of their pretty little books, as it were - and appreciated an opportunity to gather information that would be useful to the Durantes later, whether old Bernard agreed or not.

One he did not know had just relinquished the dice to a rather pretty lady with hair tinted pink in the new style of the youngest members of Celene’s Court of Ladies. The man, tall and lean with hair dark as Ives’ own, laughed at the comment the woman said as she took his place, and ran a practiced finger down what was exposed of her back before stepping away, a motion which placed him close to Ives. With a chuckle, the man observed, “Ah, I did not expect to see you in a place such as this, ser." He signaled a passing waiter. “You have not been in such a gathering for many years, I understand."

------

Read the rest of Dance With A Shadow at your preferred fanfiction site!

AO3 | FanFiction.net | Tumblr