#my fastidiousness with austen au's and my favorite austen work at that?????

[stolligaseptember]

don't make me write an essay on why lwj is anne elliott in persuasion aus

[shannaraisles]

Fire & Fidelity - Chapter 3

It is a truth universally acknowledged that no fandom can ever have too many Pride and Prejudice AUs. A straight retelling of Jane Austen’s P&P, based on the 1995 BBC miniseries adaptation, with a few tweaks here and there along the way.

Note - I have lifted characters and story elements from Dragon Age and placed them in Regency England purely in order to use the locations in P&P rather than confuse myself with making the geography of Thedas work for this story.

[Read on AO3]

Chapter Three

As the evening wore on, Jane held true to her promise to Mr. Theirin, allowing Lizzie the pleasure of seeing her sister stand up with a gentleman who was not only young and handsome, but clearly had a quick mind and a good temper that matched Jane's near perfectly. She had not seen her elder sister have such fun dancing with any partner before this one. Even a furtive glance to Mr. Rutherford, following the line of Mr. Theirin's gaze, found the disagreeable man actually smiling. It was a fleeting glimpse of a smile, hastily hidden, but it would appear that he, too, saw something in the pairing that was worth smiling about. Lizzie couldn't help the surge of pride in her sister for making such a good impression on the one person in the room whose opinion did not matter in the slightest. However, she could see he was not unaffected by the gossiping of the older women, all of whom he had offended this evening simply by refusing to dance with anyone who was not Miss Theirin, or Madame de Montfort.

Not that Lizzie was offended herself, of course not. She had danced a few of the dances, though male partners were in short supply as ever. Still, it allowed her time to catch up with Marian and Bethany, and her Aunt Montilyet. She would have liked to have danced more, but so long as Jane kept standing up with Mr. Theirin, Lizzie was determined to be happy for her. Indeed, the highlight of the evening  for everyone who was hopeful for Jane was when Mr. Theirin escorted her over to be introduced to his sister, who seemed far more polite and agreeable than his friend, despite the look on her face.

"I wonder at Kitty and Lydia," Mary murmured to her as the two of them sat together, neither one partnered for this dance nor the one to come, unlike their younger sisters, who could monopolize the dancing company of the young men and boys closest to their age with alarming confidence. "They are so fond of dancing, yet I take little pleasure in a ball."

"I should think we would both take greater pleasure in this one if there were enough partners as agreeable as Jane's," Lizzie countered, patting her sister's hand fondly.

"I believe that I should learn to find the rewards of observation and reflection much greater than I do, Lizzie," Mary admitted in a rueful tone. She was unlikely ever to marry, they all knew it, but it would be a pleasant change not to see her discarded on the sidelines of every social engagement.

"Those rewards are great when there are none others to be had," Lizzie said, squeezing her hand. "We shall have to be philosophers, Mary."

She was rewarded with a giggle from her sister, and the arrival of Madame Leliana, who slid happily into the seat Lizzie vacated in order to talk to Mary herself. That was one thing Lizzie was very grateful for; that Mary, despite the stigma of being a mage, had many good friends here in Meryton. She would never be bereft of kind company. That in itself was enough to keep Lizzie smiling as she stood a little way away from the two women, though she felt her smile fade when she realized she could hear Mr. Theirin and Mr. Rutherford rather more clearly than anyone might have liked.

"Come, Cullen, I must have you dance, I must," Mr. Theirin was insisting. "I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I most certainly shall not," was Mr. Rutherford's firm reply, but it appeared that Mr. Theirin was not having anything of it. "In an assembly such as this? It would be insupportable."

Despite herself, Lizzie found it difficult not to laugh at the high and mighty phrase spoken aloud in the midst of all those he was insulting. Was the man a fool, or did he truly wish for everyone in a fifteen mile radius to despise him by the end of the evening?

"In any case, your sister is engaged at present, as is Madame de Montfort," Rutherford added for his friend's benefit. "You know perfectly well it would be a punishment for me to stand up with any other woman in the room."

Now that was insulting, Lizzie was quite content to admit. She knew she shouldn't be straining her ears to hear every word, but she could not quite draw herself away, fascinated to discover just how awful Mr. Rutherford really was.

"Sweet Maker, Cullen, I wouldn't be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom," Theirin informed his friend in a voice that was almost heated. "I've never met so many pleasant girls in my life, certain of them uncommonly pretty."

Lizzie had to glance over at that point, just in time to see Mr. Theirin gazing longingly at Jane, now dancing with their cousin, Antoine Montilyet. It was still delightful to see how decidedly her sister had won over the sensibilities of the best gentleman they had ever been acquainted with in the course of a single evening.

"You have been dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," she heard Mr. Rutherford comment, preening on behalf of her sister for a moment as Mr. Theirin lowered his voice to add something to his comments.

She could only hope that murmured addition was further praise being heaped upon Jane's head. Maker knew, the eldest Trevelyan deserved every kind word and positive opinion. She was an angel, in Lizzie's opinion, and she did not think her opinion was so very different to Mr. Theirin's after this evening. She could have wished, however, not to have been close enough to overhear what came next.

"Look ... look, there's one of her sisters," Theirin was saying, apparently in the belief that he couldn't be overheard as he jerked his chin toward where Lizzie stood not far from the men. "She's very pretty too and, I dare say, very agreeable."

"She is ... tolerable, I suppose," his friend conceded, "but she's not handsome enough to tempt me. Alistair, I am in no mood to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men, and far less to those who clearly know nothing of the dangers of magic."

Abruptly deciding she had heard more than enough, Lizzie turned, fighting to keep the anger from her face. How dare he talk about her in that way? He knew nothing of her, nor of her family, yet had clearly decided she was beneath his notice and her sister less than nothing simply for the accident of birth that had given her magic. But yes, he did know nothing of her, and to assume she was not dancing because she was somehow defective in the eyes of the men of the parish ... that was hilarious. Not even trying to keep her laughing smile to herself, she turned back to where Mr. Rutherford stood, passing him by on her way to join Marian and share with her everything she had just overheard. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked by, as she and her friend laughed heartily at his prideful assumptions and ill-formed opinions. What a marvelous experience to take home from the Meryton assembly rooms ball.

Mr Trevelyan had made the mistake of being awake and in the drawing room when his wife and daughters returned from the ball, and despite his best efforts, he was unable to concentrate on his book as his overtired wife paced and twirled and twittered on about the evening they had just enjoyed.

"Jane was so admired! There was nothing like it!"

Despite the lateness of the hour, Mrs Trevelyan was as giggly and bouncy as Lydia and Kitty; rather too much so for the comfort of her husband who, having had the luxury of absolute silence in the house for several hours, was now regretting not reading in his study instead of the drawing room.

"Oh, Maker, I'm so fagged," Lydia declared, thumping down into a corner of the couch.

"Lydia," Jane said gently, and their youngest sister grinned as she corrected herself.

"Tired, I'm so terribly sorry to use coarse language."

Over the sound of Lydia's laughter at her own joke - which wasn't particularly funny - Kitty leaned toward their father, eager to share with him everything that had happened that evening herself.

"Lydia and I danced every dance," she enthused.

Lizzie couldn't help a faint pang of sympathy for Kitty. Constantly overshadowed by her only younger sister, and held up in comparison to her older sisters, Kitty had long ago  learned that she would never be their mother's favorite, or even favored. Instead, she had set her heart on their father, a feat Lizzie herself had accomplished purely by being herself. Unfortunately, all Mr Trevelyan saw in his second-to-youngest was a silly little girl, and he could not be convinced otherwise.

"And Mary danced none!" Lydia added with a squawk of laughter that was abruptly silenced by the look their father gave her over the top of his book.

He could tolerate twittering, he could tolerate any amount of silliness, but he would not have unnecessary cruelty in his house between his daughters, and Lydia knew that. By trying to make Mary a target, Lydia was also inviting the wrath of Lizzie, which was never an enjoyable experience. Lizzie knew she had a sharper tongue than any of her sisters, or even their mother, and though she didn't often employ it in anger, she could and would in defense of Mary, who was already isolated enough.

"And Mr. Theirin favored Jane above every other girl," Mrs Trevelyan added, pacing happily back and forth as she waved her scented handkerchief. "For he danced the first two with her, and the next with Marian Hawke, which vexed me greatly; but lo, there in the very next, nothing would please him but to stand up with Jane again! And then, you know, he danced with Lizzie, and then what do you think he did next?"

Mr. Trevelyan closed his book with a snap.

"Enough. Enough, woman, for Andraste's sake let's hear no more of his partners!" he protested, rising to his feet in an attempt to intimidate his silly wife into stopping her litany. "Would he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"

"Oh, and his sister, oh!" Mrs Trevelyan's delighted squeak drew quieter giggles from the couch, and even smiles at the table where Lizzie sat with Jane and Mary. It was difficult not to smile when their mother was in such a good mood, rare as the occasion was. "Such a charming woman, so elegant and obliging - oh, I wish you had seen them. I daresay the lace on Madame de Montfort's gown alone -"

"No lace," Mr. Trevelyan said flatly, straightening from prodding the fire with the poker still in his grasp. "No lace, Mrs Trevelyan, I beg you."

It said a lot for how they had learned to navigate their relationship over the years that Mrs Trevelyan knew when not to push her luck.

"But the man he brought with him, Mr Rutherford as he calls himself," she snapped, her former fury of the evening making an appearance once more. "He is not worth our concern though he may be the richest man in Derbyshire. The proudest ... the most horrid, disobliging - He slighted poor Lizzie, you know, and flatly refused to stand up with her."

"Slighted my Lizzie, did he?" Mr. Trevelyan raised his brows curiously as he looked to the daughter everyone knew was his favorite.

Lizzie laughed, shaking her head.

"I didn't care for him either, Father, so it's of little matter," she assured him, not particularly wanting both her parents to make an enemy of Mr. Theirin's closest friend.

Mr. Trevelyan, however, knew her particularly well, holding her gaze as his wife went on. Lizzie did her best to maintain her smile, but she knew her father had seen the sting she still felt at being dismissed by a handsome man who could so easily have stolen her breath with a smile.

"Another time, Lizzie, I would not dance with him even if he should ask you," her mother advised heatedly, and Lizzie could not think of any advice her mother had ever given her that corresponded so well with her own wishes.

"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you never to dance with Mr. Rutherford."

That seemed to satisfy her mother, and the evening relaxed into the quiet back and forth of a household of young women getting ready for bed while their parents separated to different rooms in a careful dance that had kept the house free from raised voices for many years. With Mary asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lizzie was quick to follow her, too tired to sit up with Jane and seek out her sister's opinions on the evening. That would have to come tomorrow, but she could imagine it for tonight. It was far better than lying in bed and thinking about Mr Rutherford's cold beauty.

Unfortunately, that was almost exactly what Lizzie did, leaving her irritated with herself in the morning after a night of restless sleep. Jane, however, could spot her sister's moods a mile away, and was quick to invite Lizzie to spar with her, successfully preventing an all-out war at the breakfast table when Kitty made an ill-advised remark about people who took up all their father's time. And, of course, the talk turned to Mr. Theirin, and Jane's experience of the ball the night before.

"He's just what a young man ought to be, Lizzie," she declared with a happy smile, taking her stance opposite her sister as they both raised swords. "Sensible, lively ... and I never saw such happy manners!"

She thrust, and Lizzie found herself too slow to react appropriately, knocking Jane's sword aside with a clumsy slap of her own blade as she stumbled to the side. She heard their father harrumph from the other side of the training yard, and scowled for a moment, certain that Kitty would be celebrating the fact that their father's favorite wasn't living up to her title right now. But there were happier things to focus on, clearing the frown from her face as she corrected herself, advancing to attack on her own recognizance.

"He's handsome, too, which a young man ought to be if he possibly can," she reminded her sister, pleased to see Jane's blush intensify even as the elder deflected her attack with enviable ease. "And he seems to like you very much, which shows good judgment."

"Lizzie!"

Teasing Jane was the best way to knock her off-balance during a sparring session, and Lizzie had to admit, working off the tension of a poor night's sleep and the last vestiges of annoyance with the awful Mr. Rutherford was just what she needed right now. The swords crossed, the two elder Trevelyan girls nose to nose between the blades as they grinned at one another.

"No, I give you leave to like him," Lizzie informed her sister with an impish cast to her gaze. "You've liked many a stupider person."

Jane laughed, pushing back from the clinch and whirling away to catch up a secondary dagger. This, she tossed to Lizzie, before claiming one for herself. Turning the dagger in her hand, Lizzie circled with her, eyeing the expert way Jane moved.

"He could be happier in his choice of sister and friends, although the sister I suppose he cannot help," she added, jerking back from the sweep of Jane's blade.

"Do you not like her?" Jane asked, a curious hint of defiance in her voice.

"Not at all," was Lizzie's honest answer. She and Jane rarely disagreed on such things, but she could understand why her sister had a slightly different opinion of Goldanna Theirin to her own. "Her manners are quite different from his."

She lunged, and Jane caught her sword blade between both dagger and sword, twisting the weapon from her grasp and sending her skipping back to avoid the blow the golden child of the family aimed in her direction.

"At first, perhaps," Jane conceded, kicking the fallen sword safely out of their way as she pressed her advantage. "But after a while, I found her very pleasing. Miss Theirin is to keep house for her brother, and I am sure they will be very charming neighbors."

"One of them may be," Lizzie said, letting the playful tease shine through just to see Jane hesitate and shake her head.

"No, Lizzie, I am sure you are wrong," came the insistent answer, a familiar refusal from Jane to hope for anything that might give her so much happiness. She did have a rebuttal to knock the wind out of her younger sister, as well. "And even Mr. Rutherford, you know, may improve upon closer acquaintance."

Despite the rise of stinging hurt that came with the memory of the words, Lizzie refused to show that it still tugged at her, turning the man's unfortunately overheard comment over until she could laugh at it.

"Do you mean he'll be in the mood to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men?" she declared outrageously. "Never!"

Jane's laugh was loud and carefree, and did nothing to prevent her from tackling Lizzie about the waist and bearing her down onto the grass, knocking the dagger from her sister's hand and winning the match without seeming to need effort at all.

"Well done, Jane," their father called from the other side of the yard, where he was correcting Kitty's stance as she sparred with Lydia.

Beaming, Jane rolled off Lizzie, thumping down to lie on her back beside her, both of them looking up at the clouds scudding across the spring blue sky. Lizzie sighed, bringing to mind the words from last night that would not leave her be.

"She is tolerable, I suppose," she repeated breezily, "but not handsome enough to tempt me."

"It was very wrong of him to speak so," Jane murmured, turning her head to look at her sister's profile.

"Indeed it was," Lizzie agreed, raising a warm smile as she, too, turned her head to meet her sister's blue eyes. "A capital offense!"

"Lizzie!"

She sat bolt upright at the sound of the call from their mother, Jane not long behind her. Mrs Trevelyan waved a handkerchief at her from the house.

"Marian Hawke is come to call," she declared, loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear. "Come along inside."

Jane smiled as she rose to her feet, reaching down to pull Lizzie up too. She knew how close Lizzie's friendship with Marian was, and how much her sister might need that friend today. After all, Lizzie never liked to let her see anything but a smile on her face.

"Go on in, Lizzie," she urged in a fond tone. "I will spar with Lydia while Father corrects Kitty in her stance."

Glad to be released, Lizzie embraced her briefly and moved to hurry into the house, unlooping her skirts until they fell demurely about her ankles once again. Marian was sitting in the parlor, having apparently been abandoned by Mrs Trevelyan. This was not necessarily a bad thing; Lizzie knew her mother had views on the Hawkes, and couldn't always keep them to herself.

"Marian, how wonderful to see you," Lizzie declared, smiling as she embraced her friend. "What brings you to us so soon? I had thought you would be calling upon all your former acquaintance before renewing with us again."

Marian rolled her eyes, gently swatting at her friend's hand.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lizzie," she said. "In truth, my parents are to give a party at Hawke Lodge, and you are all invited to come. I volunteered to extend the invitation myself simply in order to visit with someone who isn't going to twitter at me about Miss Theirin's dresses."

"Well, you may be assured on two counts," came the reply. "That we shall certainly accept your invitation, and that you will hear no twittering about Miss Theirin's anything at all from me."

"And what of Mr. Rutherford?" Marian asked, eyeing her a little slyly.

Lizzie's frown returned, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I am determined not to think on Mr. Rutherford unless no other course of action is open to me," she said firmly. "I will not give him the pleasure of knowing if his words caused harm of any kind."

The look her friend gave her spoke volumes about the lie Marian knew was in that little speech. But no matter - Lizzie was certain about one thing. No matter how handsome he was, there was nothing within Mr. Cullen Rutherford but pride and prejudice, and she would not invite such into her circle for all the happy manners in the world.