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mercysought · 24 days ago

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for Maxima: 5 times paid

five times _____ // not accepting // @valorcorrupt

"I couldn't possibly accept this, my Lord."

The red dress. The coin purse that was fuller than she had ever seen one.

The way that the older man held the side of her hand while placing both things on her hand.

"Oh, please." he snorts and his eyes wrinkle easily with the lightness of the tone. Daphné doesn't know what to do in that moment but stare, her bare and completely unfiltered expression of shock at the gifts "This is but a token of appreciation,"

He speaks as if it is nothing. And he still holds her hand, making no move to release her. He leans closer and the warmth of his breath can be felt just close enough "and a hope that I shall see your wonderful face and lovely voice in our next event again."

Her mouth is dry, but she doesn't make a move. Well too aware that the templars are just a few feet away from her; aware that this was far more coin than she had ever seen in all of her life, much less something that she could have ever dream about having belonged and offered to her. The strings that were attached at such an exchange - but such strings were there regardless of answer, were they not?

She refused and she would not be invited to another soiree, not allowed outside of the circle. Her freedoms clipped once more, only to be locked behind large doors. Were she to accept it, well - no one's soul in Orlais was above its own darkened stains. No one was above their own potential regrets, correct?

And if this was the price that one needed to pay, the tune that one needed to dance, Daphné was perfectly capable of learning the steps - and to learn how to dance it better than them. A foolish thing to think, perhaps, but that was a hope that can only exist and be fanned in one's youth. To be able to outwit and outpace a system such as this.

Daphné smiles. Left hand coming to cover his, moving it softly to the side and pulling the red fabric as to allow it to be folded over her arm.

"You are too kind, my Lord." she says, a light hum of her voice and a bow of the head as he releases the bag of coin over her hand. He moves away and she follows him with dark green eyes, all the way to the edge of her vision. Her shoulders straighten, her mouth pounding in her hearts - willing herself not to cough or clear the dryness of her throat away.

"Please do wear this, when next we see each other." his voice rings with that same easy lightness, though he doesn't turn around as he returns to the party.

Daphné stands now in the opulent room that doesn't belong to her. With a bag of coin, swiftly counting them with growing alarm at the amount provided.

"I don't think you understand how fucking serious this situation you found yourself in is." Daphné's voice is heavy, thick, whispered as her hand holds the side of the elf's arm, pulling his hand away from the violin case so that he might actually look at her as she spoke.

"I understand plenty." he speaks but Daphné rolls her eyes, her hand moving away from their arm. She holds herself from pushing him. From calling him the petulant child he behaves like. Instead she just watches his mouth twist as Marius holds onto the violin, bringing him close to his own body and starting to move towards the door "I'm not stopping and I'm certainly not living the city."

She sighs, louder and more exasperated than she would have allowed herself in public. But they were not in public and he was not an audience, not one that she was trying to call to her. Not in the way that one would entrance another. He needed to listen to her.

"You are an idiot." she sneers, taking a step after him. Not to stop him but to make sure that she held the door open for him to exit through. She doesn't look at the elf when she pushes past him, uncaring that she hit his shoulder "The worst that one could be."

"And what is that?"

A dare? Very well. Daphné clicks her tongue, her hand turning the door knob to allow him to finally leave. He doesn't move, however, not while waiting for the answer to the question asked. An explanation at the clicking of the tongue and the expression of pure annoyance washing the singer's face.

"An idealist with a death wish." she says simply, and it annoys her that he would need this explained. The Red Jennies held the best of intentions but they were disorganized and went after targets that were easy to put into a frenzy. The identifies of the members, while mostly unknown, were not easy to track down. Especially not one that oftentimes found himself in soirees in the Orlesian court.

What did he think would happen when the chevaliers started to add two and two together? The chalets that were attacked weeks after some musicians, non human, accompanied by mages? Did he think that they would go through each one of the members and veto them?

How much more likely was it, then, that he was offering all of them up for slaughter for a cause that she never signed up for? "If you want to martyr yourself so badly, at least know that to be a martyr you need the right sort of story. And people need to know who you are. Your name."

And no one knew his name. Daphné places the coin atop the violin case "Take the coin. Stay in an inn outside the city. Lay low."

III

The money is counted. It is the same amount as it had been ever since she returned to Tevinter.

The methods of delivery had become more extensive, complex. Not that the recipient would know better. Or cared. All that Maxima knew, however, was that at least the money was being taken and put to good use. It didn't make her feel better but it made her feel like she was doing the right thing.

It was always the same.

A hundred gold coins placed twice a year beneath a specific porch, by a door, hidden from sight so that the owners might find it but no one else. A payment that followed the family of four, now five, everywhere they moved in the alienage. Amongst the space around them, however, this latest house was one that looked almost akin to the ones that kept them confined to the walls predetermined for people like them.

A mother, a father, an older boy, a little girl and a baby. Though Maxima wouldn't know any of their names - not that she had tried to truly find out. It was only important, somehow, in an unexplainable way, that she knew that she had done all she could to make sure that they would be provided for.

She was told, in wide strokes, about the house, about the small vegetable garden. All three children growing up healthy, well fed. All three children normal, with no magic in their veins.

The magister hadn't asked, but she had too been told that they were all happy. All of them looked healthy. Laughter could be sometimes heard pouring from the backyard.

It was not something that Maxima needed to know about. It was a hurt that was easily forgotten by the consumption of a good red wine and the lightening of her purse.

IV (a 🤏 of @evirsor @eodunn)

"And why am I the one doing this?" his voice is clipped, though calm. A true visage for someone that knew exactly how to keep his temper when asked something that he deemed... well, unreasonable.

"A fair question, dearest Hyun," Maxima hums, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth, circling around the tables of carefully stacked books and neatly arranged parchment papers. The magisters spares them all a glance though lingers over none of them with particular attention as the thin line of smoke rises and paints a path as she moves. Glancing over her shoulder, Maxima tilts her head once more, allowing the long auburn hair to sway as she did "though I did not say that it should be you doing it, only that you should make sure that it does get delivered."

However, if she was indeed to be pressed for an answer, that too could be arranged. It was not unsurprising, after all, Hyun was not unreasonable, but the same way that Maxima didn't want to have herself be seen in specific parts of the city - she could completely understand why he wouldn't either. But there were parts of the city that an elf could more freely walk, especially if one was very easily dismissed.

"Because I trust you." she starts, swaying softly as she walked around this small, now empty, room of research in one of the most prestigious Minrathous Circles "Because I need someone with a deft touch to do something that I find rather valuable."

Maxima smiles openly now, pearly white teeth against bright red, carefully drawn lips as her eyes fall on her protegé "Because I am asking you to, ever so nicely."

She hums, turning once more now to face him, pulling the cigarette from her lips she takes out a small pouch of golden coins, placing it atop a pile of blank parchments. When her hand reaches within her robes, to her belt, she removes another pouch, this one larger. Her heels click against the wooden floors. Removing the parchment from his hand, her white gloved fingers open his palm to place it on his palm.

"I would heavily suggest meeting Tacita yourself, however."

V (a 🤏 of @extravagantliar though only in spirit lmao)

The body of an organization was not unlike one of flesh and bone; there was, of course, something to be said about the spirit - or soul, but that Maxima left for the romantics. No, Maxima looked at her business as a medic would look upon sinew and bone, the inner workings of muscle and asked: is this operating at an acceptable level. And where, when, was intervention required?

Intervention was, often times, as disruptive as the illness itself. If the ill tidings were short lived, then those things would disappear. Like a piece of fabric that is pressed under a particularly firm hand that straightens a heavy linen.

Three payments were then required. One for the usual routes. Two for labour and transport. Three for clipping lose ends that were starting to impose themselves over matters that did not concern them. Kirkwall had been a wonderful work around that she and Varric had worked out over a late night of all too cheap wine - but the conversation and company had been pleasant and so she hadn't even complained about the wine then.

It had been a mistake that she would never repeat for as long as they each knew each other. Maxima Aurum was many things, cheap was not one of them.

Kirkwall had been a good solution, but now it was starting to turn on its viscount and making matters... peculiarly hard to handle. Maxima was ironing out the details without direct intervention, as best as she could, allowing for Varric to deal with it for this was his piece of the pie and she cared far more for the city and for its people than she ever did. The city was only important insofar as it held Varric's affections and heart, all else was secondary to the fact that it was also one of the main arteries to their business.

But news had reached her ears, and while Varric had not sent work himself, she knew that it was only a matter of time. A matter of where he would send the letter from - all she knew was that it would not be from within Kirkwall. And so she wanted to make sure that they knew that the mistake they had made was far deeper than initially realised.

It would cost her money, them money. Initially it would feel like an unstoppable, terminal bleeding. But a body can continue to function easily enough without a limb - even if one felt it was so deeply, intrinsically connected to its identity.

#valorcorrupt #maxima aurum ( muses )#raven received ( meme replies )#( juicy lore drops we love it )#( did I just fully run with hyun though I know next to nothing beyond what we spoke about? maybe but I just had the vision and had to do it #so uh hope this is ok! )

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