Turns out that Goblin Week isn’t until next week, so I had time to do another one of these - but I’m doubling up on the surprise-theme instead of doing the actual final theme because reasons.
Surprise-smooch!
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In exchange for this lovely piece of art for OC Kiss Week, I wrote @sirconnie a story featuring our Hawkes, Persephone and Filia, that ended up much longer than I initially planned lol
But it was fun and gave me a chance to explore what Filia would be doing if she wasn’t ‘Hawke.’
Persephone felt bad for the poor man: A Lord with no fortune or money to speak of still desperate to keep up with the ‘best’ of them.
She watched as he made his way through the crowded ballroom, slithering almost, with all the peculiarities of a desperate, hungry, gluttonous snake.
He seemed...suspicious, or perhaps worried, and that, in turn, worried her; Every few moments he tugged at the jewel hanging loosely from his collar and touched the upper pocket of his breast, an outward sign of clear anxiety.
Plus he eyeing the despair ham: A sign of human desperation in and of itself.
Other nobles, those with reason to be happy, whirled around the room in a dizzying array; laughing, drinking, and sneaking down the hallways.
But most importantly, and perhaps most frustratingly, they indulged themselves with endless gossip.
‘Have you seen?’ They snickered. ‘Have you heard?’
Each privy to the scandals of the city yet still hungry for more.
She didn’t like this, Persephone, these weren’t the type of secrets traded betweens lovers or shared amongst a group of friends--these words were wielded like weapons, like knives passed between bodies in the darkness of the night.
And they weren’t as above it all as they’d like to think (had they not each, at some point or another, required her assistance for something potentially life ruining?) but for her Mother, who did enjoy these extravagant parties, she’d smile, cringe (on the inside of course,) and bare it.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, there was something to take her attention from social niceties. Or rather someone.
Glancing over the throng of nobles surrounding her in a circle, Persephone found the Poor Nobleman again, skirting cautiously along the outer edges of the party as though he did not want to be seen.
[Keep Reading!]
It was difficult to move in these dresses her Mother seemed to conjure up from nothing, it was hard to fight in blue silk and lace, but perhaps a simple conversation would calm the man--stop him from doing anything...unsavory.
Suddenly he looked up at her, however, but quickly turned away with a huff and a surprised looking face.
Odd. He couldn’t have possibly been looking at her, could he?
Curious, she followed his retracted gaze to a group laughing almost 10 steps away.
Most of the nobles were indistinguishable; like a bright, venomous, multi-headed beast that laughed and moved and seemed to breathe together.
Had it not been for the color of their clothing, Persephone could have sworn they were all the same.
One, however, stood differently: taller (though still not as tall as she,) darker, more familiar than the rest.
Well, almost familiar--she couldn’t claim to know the woman well, if at all, outside of the occasional run-in at a party.
She knew her name, Filia--or that’s what she told her when they met anyway, back when they first met eye’s across the room and smiled.
It took several more meetings, however, and an attack by hired men for them to actually speak.
“...I've been searching for someone.” She admitted, someone who owed someone something (she was fuzzy on the details) but didn’t want to pay. “A terribly Orlesian way to go about things I know, but this is the only place I knew he’d be. Nobles never like missing out on a good party.” She smiled, taking the situation in stride as though it was little more than an inconvenience to her day.
“Thanks for the backup.”
“You’re welcome.” It was nothing really. She saw the suspicious men in red follow her out to the balcony, each grinning and clutching knives--of course she had to help. Had she not, an unbearable guilt would have tugged away at her insides.
Nevertheless, Persephone wasn’t sure Filia needed help after arriving at the scene of the would-be crime--a sword in hand, she struck the men down as if they were nothing.
But a bit of magic always helped, especially with the healing.
Their meetings were a little quieter after that, a little less exciting, though the premise was always the same:
She was looking for someone who owed her something, the nature of which she couldn’t quite say.
And tonight was no exception.
The Poor Nobleman, she figured, owed Filia something. (Poor Persephone was starting to wonder what exactly the other woman did for a living. A bounty hunter? Hired muscle? A bondsman for the city?)
Regardless, Filia looked back at her as though she sensed her watching and then smiled, the golds of her eyes brightening with a sort of pleasant surprise before grinning, a saucy expression overtook her face and was punctuated by a wink that stirred butterflies that rose and fluttered somewhere beneath Persephone's cheeks.
But she returned the smile and the look in kind--this part wasn’t new to their meetings either.
‘He’s been disowned by his family in Antiva and Orlais. There can be no other explanation.’
She lost track of the conversation, so the words of the Nobles stopped making sense. But it was nothing but more idle chatter--just the same as always.
As the night progressed, the crowd began dispersing to and from the food spread along the tables--though 'food' was a subjective label.
“And so we meet again.” Filia greeted, casually strolling to up Persephone's side and bending to adjust something in her boot. “You’re looking extravagant this evening, I feel slightly underdressed--and this isn’t me just fishing for compliments.”
“No need,” She suppressed a breathy laugh of slight embarrassment, "You look very nice.”
“Well I am quite dashing,” she joked, but there were matters more important than that, it seemed. “I’ve been looking for you--I should have figured you’d be taking a break from the festivities.”
‘Festivities’ was one way to put it, ‘boring nightmare’ was another.
Persephone took a moment to regain herself by stepping from the crowd, worn and tired of their follies. It was a long, horrible, dull evening. Even the Poor Nobleman seemed to find his ease amongst 'friends.' (They didn’t seem to do much talking or enjoy each others company.)
She’s yet to decide whether or not that was a good thing.
“You’ve been looking for me?” Part of her was glad of the reasonable company, the other was concerned. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“In a sense.You’ve...got yourself an enemy.”
“An enemy?” She thought back, eyebrows knitting themselves together in dismay. Like most people, Persephone had a few enemies (well, maybe more than most people.) She needed her dear acquaintance to be a little more specific. “Who?”
“Well I don’t know his name,” Filia scoffed, waved her hand flippantly as though that information wasn't vital, “but I hear someone lost all his money when a scandal involving slavery was exposed. Tragic isn’t it?”
Maker’s Breath, Persephone sighed. The Poor Nobleman? She wished she could say she was surprised.
“If he’s been dealing with Slavers he got what he deserves.” Her words were spoken with the stern dignity of a woman whose compassion did not run so deep as to forgive those who profit from slavery. How could she?
In fact, he deserved more than just the loss of his money.
“Well, he doesn’t think so.” Filia leaned across the table to grab a tiny cake, “in fact he thinks the opposite is true and now...well, now he’s a dead man walking--wanted by just about everyone: The Coterie, The Red Irons...he owes a debt to just about everyone in Kirkwall so he’ll be dead soon.” She shrugged and tasted the icing. “Or well...he should be. The problem now is that he has...a thing he can trade in exchange for at least one of his debts to be paid--And then he can hire some men to kill you. Blaze of glory and all that."
It always came back to unnecessary plots for revenge. Nobles were so dramatic.
“But if we can get to him first...”
“We can stop the trade before he hires the mercenaries.” Wait a moment. “We? You’re planning to help me?”
Filia nodded, unable to talk as she ate.
“You helped me the day we met. And besides, I’d like to get to him first.”
“Does owe you something too?” Persephone frowned, a look of disappointment stretching across the dark features of her face. Despite her more shady tendencies, she didn’t expect Filia to deal with such things.
“Not exactly. It’s...more personal than that, and I can’t get near him because of it--at least not alone.” She set down her plate. “He’s under protection until the deal happens but, considering he wants you dead and I want him dead...I thought maybe we could help each other?" She spoke carefully, as though she didn’t quite know how to ask.
She clearly doesn’t ask for assistance very often, if at all.
And it wasn’t a bad deal, Persephone admitted. She’s definitely worked on less before.
“When’s the deal happening? Do you know who he’ll be meeting with?” Whatever her reasons, the Poor Nobleman’s deal needed to be stopped--for both her safety and those who’d be harmed.
“I know it’ll happen toward the end of the evening--you how dramatic these nobles can be and, well, she person he’s meeting doesn’t seem to be here so we should wait. Two birds, one stone..."
The Poor Nobleman stood solemnly beneath the archway, looking as though these were to be his last moments alive.
The girls parted soon after their conversation, but their eyes met across the ballroom once they realized it was time.
They watched him pull something small and metal from his breast pocket and stare at it for a few long moments before turning into the hall heading to the parlor on the other side.
So they followed him--or rather they tried. The ‘protection’ Filia mentioned were the three men the Poor Nobleman was with before.
“Should we kill them?” Filia whispered, leaning up and to the right so her words could reach Persephone's ears.
“The others come this way all the time, and they’re just guards so they should let us through.” If they weren’t recognized anyway.
“Well in that case…” Taking this as an invitation, Filia wrapped her arm around Persephone’s, linking them together like a cozy couple with a wink. “We should at least look convincing.”
She wouldn’t disagree.
“What’re you two doing sneaking around here? Parties that way.” One spoke out rudely, stepping forward to block their way at the center of the long dimly lit hall.
“Oh?” Filia looked toward Persephone with wide, exaggerated surprise “Thank you for telling us--we didn’t notice that at all!”
“We need a few moments alone,” Persephone told them. “It won’t take long.”
“Speak for yourself.” Filia chuckled, but their act didn’t seem to change their minds.
“No one gets through.” Another man spoke with a thick Antivan accent. “Find somewhere else to fuck.”
“Well.” Filia released her grip. “I never!”
One of the men leaned toward the other, whispering something in his ear.
It seemed one of them was recognized.
Away from heavy crowds and prying eyes, however, the guards were done away with quickly--forced back against the walls with force magic and paralyzed.
Filia stole a sword off their bodies ‘just in case.’
She also, apparently, had a knife in one of her boot and another in her sleeve.
“But swords are better than knives any day.”
Even bad ones.
And today, Persephone thought, was a terrible day for her to have given into her mother’s whimsies. She smoothed her hand across the soft fabric of her outermost skirt. But if everything went well, and it never did, the fighting would be minimal--or they'd at least be quick about it.
Despite what she told herself, however, she found herself envying the tall boots and trousers Filia wore in preparation for the evening, knowing she'd have to fight.
“Let’s try to avoid bloodshed,” She warned Filia, who seemed to take the advice reluctantly. But these guards were just hired men and they didn’t want to draw too much attention from the ongoing party.
That, and she couldn’t get her dress dirty.
“I’ll try.”
The hall was lined with suits of armor and cases filled with hunting trophies. They became larger, more impressive, and intimidating as they crept closer to the end of the hall.
It was quiet on the other side of the large wooden doors but they both knew there would be someone waiting.
"Ready?"
The door was locked, but Persephone forced it open with a push of her will.
And he was--The Poor Nobleman, standing in the center of the room surrounded by guards who immediately attacked.
But the women fought their way through.
Magic, taunts, and the cool strike of metal hitting metal flew like birds throughout the room--the unconscious (and hopefully not dead) bodies of henchmen lined the ground easily, falling till none but the Poor and ‘Noble’ one remained, hiding himself beneath a table and acting as though he couldn’t be seen.
“How valuable is this information that he needs so much protection?” Persephone wondered.
“That depends on who you’re asking really…” Filia squatted down beside the table and greeted the Poor Nobleman with a friendly, out of place, ‘hello.’
“Remember me?”
“Please!” He spoke with an Orlesian accent, “Do not kill me!”
“‘Don’t kill me!’ She mocked him, “ You aren’t in a place to be making such requests now are you?” Gone were all the charms and the good-natured humor in her voice--in its place was something that spoke of a darker intent.
“I am only trying to win back what was mine! What was taken from-!”
“They sold slaves!” Persephone interrupted, just holding back the fire that threatened to come forth through her hands. “And you took that money--You don’t deserve anything!”
“I’ve lost everything!”
“You haven’t lost anything.” Filia threatened in a slow, deep voice. “But you will.” She slid the knife from behind her boot and pressed it to his throat with practiced ease. “I’ll even make it easy for you: Give back what you took and die painfully, or make me loot your corpse for it first.”
"Please!"
"I really did hope you wouldn't pick the looting option-"
“Wait.” Persephone interrupted. “We can’t just kill him.” As much as it pained her to say. “We should take him to the guard.” There was clearly some bad blood between them, but this matter could be reconciled without bloodshed--justice could be served without killing.
“Yes!” He shouted, “Yes. Please do not kill me--I can make a deal!” He fumbled around for a moment in the dark before reaching into his breast his pocket. With sweaty, shaking, hands he pushed a small metal pendant over with ease.
“This is what you want? Take it! It is not worth my life.”
“It’s worth more than that” Filia took it from him--and paused a moment to make sure it was what she needed to retrieve. “Did you see what was inside?”
“I could never get it open! I swear!”
“Then you got lucky.” She stood, drawing back her knife but kicking him in the head for good measure.
“That’s what he took from you? Your locket?” The Poor Nobleman was hysterical but Persephone lowered him down to sleep where he’d be till the City Guard arrived.
“It’s what’s inside that matters.” She pulled a small key from the chain around her neck and used it to open the hatches with a sigh. “And it’s here....Lovely.”
“Is it something important?” She’s chased people down for many things in the past, but never a piece of decorative jewelry.
“To someone. To me.” Filia slid it back into her pocket. “I suppose I owe you an explanation don’t I?”
“That would be nice.”
“I had to do something when I got to Kirkwall--so I started up with this guild. A few months ago they started meddling in this business with...well, I wanted out--but of course, they don’t allow for that sort of thing. ‘If you’re out, then you’re out.’” She rolled her eyes. “Not only did I bring them profits, but none of them could actually manage to kill me.”
She pointed at the guards. “However, in the words of my soon-to-be-dead employer, ‘everyone has a heart,’ someone or something you can use to exploit them. And mine.” She tapped on her pocket, “Can be found with this. That poor man probably didn’t even know what he had--he was probably just told to lift it off me.”
“Does your old boss really want you back so badly?”
“She isn’t the ‘letting go’ type. But for now, s-my secret is safe.”
“Won’t she send more men after you? Will you be alright?”
“She’s certainly free to try.” Filia grinned, turning toward the window to look out at the moon. “Alas--It’s getting late, and you should probably get back to the party before the City Guards come to ruin things.”
The Party, Persephone wanted to sigh. Filia was right. Her mother would be looking for her and she’d hate the explain why she went missing.
‘I left to stop a deal that would result in mercenaries coming to kill me’ was not a story she felt like spinning.
She could only be grateful she didn’t ruin her dress.
“Are you coming back to the party?” The crept out the room, walking past the bodies of the first three guardsmen on the way.
Someone wouldn't be happy about this.
“I have a bed waiting for me at home--I’d hate to keep him waiting.”
“Lucky you.”
“Let’s hope...but, anyway…” Filia stopped, pausing near the bright end of the hall. “Thanks for the help--maybe we'll get the chance to work together again someday. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
‘Exciting’ was one way to put it.
“I would like that.” She’d probably fit in well her other friends.
“I would too.”
Filia stepped forward, closing the gap of space between them.
“I really do mean that. I...I don’t know what I’d do if this got into the wrong hands.”
“I was happy to help you.”
She placed her hand against Persephone’s arm and looked up at her--still not very use to doing that. Regardless she smiled, a cheeky little grin as she traced a circle on her skin with a finger.
“You really are too kind. I can’t believe the rumors were right about you.”
“There are rumors?” She felt herself blushing. Filia chuckled.
“Of course--and now I see that they’re true. I’m glad.”
“About what?" She looked her in the eyes as they spoke, a smile of her own tugging at the corners of her cheeks.
“About you.”
They locked eyes, golds meeting in the darkness of the night, pressing closer by the moment before closing.
Filia stood on her toes to kiss her, Persephone leaned over.
It wasn't magic, but something of a similar effect that left their bodies tingling. They parted for a moment only to kiss again, their lips pressing together in soft, fluttering heat.
It felt like a long time coming.
“I hope that means we get to meet again.” Filia fell back to her heels.
“Well if you need anything…”
“I’ll find you. And you can probably find me too--if you look.” Filia winked at her and stepped away as a moment of silence fell between them like drapes.
“I should get going. I’ll let the guards know what happened--wouldn’t want you being blamed for the mess we left behind.” Filia turned around, heading back into the noise of the ongoing party. “Try not to get into trouble without me.”
“That's the type of promise I doubt I could keep.”
