#fandom whump

Tellana hated mages.

On the weekends, she picked up shifts at an upscale brothel in the Noble's District.

She knew the Madam well; the old woman was a dwarf - stern with both her women and her clients, and used everyone for their worth.

It was boring, and the commission fee was expensive, but it was safer than being out during the busiest days of the week when any rough-handed off-duty soldier might get the coin to call on her.

But, she really hated mages.

Especially Tevinter mages.

Especially Tevinter mages who smoked lyrium cigarettes.

"I've already had my wash," the mage complained through a huff of smoke, "and I've already paid for your time. Don't be so cold towards, me, hm?"

He leaned in, pressing her back against the wall and smoothing his soft, hot fingers up the curve of her hips - raising her silk dress up with the hand holding his cigarette.

Tellana touched the front of his robes gingerly, an inviting gesture, but, when he hummed in approval, he breathed a stinking cloud of red smoke into her face.

She pressed her hand over his lips.

"It stinks," she muttered, looking away across the room.

Tevinter mages...

She'd lost count of how many were swarming the streets these days, like invasive beetles invading a home - they were beautiful, shimmering in the sun, but sinister past their looks and dangerous in large groups.

Why had so many mages come to the city?

Were they gathering because of the Conclave?

But that was happening hundreds of miles away...

Was there something more going -

Tellana was pulled out of her thoughts by rough, dry lips crashing down onto hers.

She gave a slight groan at the painful pressure of it, then flinched as her mouth filled with noxious smoke - leaking red at the corners. Her gaze flickered to the mage man's glowing, lyrium-addled eyes as he watched her through a mess of curly hair.

"Mmh - st -" she tried to say, but couldn't pull her head away.

She struggled against him, but his body had closed the distance between them, and a feral sort of panic was creeping up on her. She pushed at his face, and when he still refused to move - dragged her nails down his cheek, hard enough to draw blood.

The mage cried out and stumbled away shocked, but not shocked enough to let go of his precious cigarette.

"You little knife-eared slut!" He snarled

"I told you," Tellana said again, standing up straight and staring him down, "it stinks. Get rid of that shit, or take your money and get out."

It was a bad idea, she knew.

"How dare you order me around...you slave bitch," The mage stormed back over to her and grabbed her upper arm in a vice-like grip. "Do you know how easy it would be to drag you back to Tevinter and put you back in your place? Not a soul would stop me for the likes of a dumb slut like you -!"

Better to just play along. What did his stink matter in the end?

But she was so sick of the stench of men.

And tired. So tired.

"I have never been a slave," she lied, even as her arm was aching in his grasp, "I was born free. And if you harm me, you'll have to pay extra, and will be removed from the premises."

The mage's red lyrium eyes glared, he huffed with furious breath and took a long drag from his cigarette to calm down.

He let go of her arm, and took a step back.

Tellana inspected the bruise, which was already ripening to a deep violet on her otherwise flawless skin.

What a pain it would be to take lower rates waiting for it to heal.

"You'll have to pay extra for -" she started to say, but was interrupted with a sharp slap to the face.

A slap much stronger than the man's looks. It sent her stumbling down onto the carpet.

He was moving strangely, jolting, as if he couldn't quite control his own limbs. He dropped down to his knees next to her and grabbed a handful of her hair.

Tellana groaned; he jerked her head backwards.

"I can't stand fucking mouthy little sluts who don't know their place," the mage growled, his voice a strange warble from the effect of his drugs, "I could buy and sell a thousand of you and not blink an eye. You want to say something else?"

Her neck was stretched, and her knees were burned from landing hard on the rug.

She tried to open her mouth to speak, but didn't get a word out.

The mage silenced with a claw-like hand, forcing his fingers into the hinge of her jaw and then stuffing the rest of his lit cigarette deep into her mouth.

Tellana panicked. She fought against his grip, tried to spit it out.

The hot ashes burned her tongue.

Blood red smoke streamed from her nose.

But the mage held her mouth closed, falling down on top of her and pinning her arms down, sitting on her to keep her still - pinching her nose to stop her exhaling the smoke.

She was choking. Suffocating.

The stench of lyrium made her eyes water.

The mage watched her - his toothy grin was stained red.

She couldn't breathe.

Her tears burned more than the cigarette.

She crunched her teeth down on it.

The taste was nauseously bitter in her mouth, and seared not with heat but with the poison of the drug.

But she chewed, and then swallowed.

Only then did the mage let her breathe.

And as she gasped for air, he tore at her clothes. Her breasts lolled out of the top of her dress, she felt his hands groping between her thighs, lifting her hips up off the floor.

Greedily, like a man starving, he helped himself to her body.

Tellana lay there, her face flushed with an unbearable heat and her vision blurry at the edges.

Her arms would not move, nor her head lift up - the rushing of blood was loud as a waterfall in her ears. It drowned out the mage's heavy grunting, it drowned out all of her thoughts.

She could feel everything.

The embroidered thread of the carpet under her. Her long hair as it brushed against her sensitive ears. Little jolts of dull pleasure as the mage thrust inside of her.

A moan escaped her lips - a pathetic, weak thing.

The mage laughed; he said something, but his voice was too warped to understand.

Tellana stared up at the painted ceiling, and lay in a drug-induced daze until it was eventually, mercifully, over.

The mage, as he left, dropped an extra handful of silver over her body.

Eventually, she regained control of her body and achingly pulled herself up from the floor. Her dress was ruined, she could feel bruises throbbing on her face, and her throat was painfully sore.

No amount of wine could wash away the burns on her tongue.

When the young attendant came to do her usual post-client duties, she screamed. Only then did the madam come.

There were apologies, a lot of swearing and yelling, and the brothel was all in a fluster as word got around of what had happened.

The Madam paid her double her usual rate.

Tellana thought of home.

The Madam swore such a thing would never happen again.

Tellana asked for something to wear.

And counted herself lucky that - since no self respecting noble would call on a whore who'd been beaten - she returned home before the night was half over.

Jaime was asleep when she got back; a handsome woman with strong shoulders, a soft, slender face, and gentle hands.

Someone safe, and quiet, and...

Tellana walked into the small room they shared above the cobbler's shop. She felt dizzy, unsteady on her feet - gazing around in the dark as if she were a strange, alien being seeing their home for the first time.

She stopped short of the bed.

"Jaime..." she said, and then louder: "Jaime."

"Mmm..." Jaime mumbled sleepily, "Lana...?"

"Yeah. I'm home."

"Homeeee...s'it morning already...?"

"No, I came back early."

"Early...?" Jaimed blinked her eyes open, "How come?"

"...Let's move out of the city."

"Move? Hold on -" Jaime sat up slowly in bed, rubbing her eyes, "Lana - what happened, how come you - "

She stopped short with a gasp when she saw the state of Tellana's face, and the torn fragments of silk peeking out from under the long coat she'd borrowed from the brothel.

Then, Jaime let out a long breath. She didn't ask any more questions.

"Let's move." Tellana said again.

"Okay...okay." Jaime said, gently holding out her arms, "It's okay, Lana, it's gonna be okay."

Tellana felt her shoulders stiffen.

She shuffled a few steps closer before her legs finally gave out, and she fell to her knees in front of Jaime, who tried to catch her, to prevent her hitting the wooden floor too hard.

"I want to move," Tellana said, her voice a wet, hoarse rumble, "away - far away..."

"Okay, we can do that," Jaime assured her in a soothing whisper, carefully brushing her hair out of her face with cool hands.

"Please..." Tellana caught her breath against the shudder of tears, then hid her face in Jaime's lap, shoulders trembling, "Please...please..."

"Okay, Lana," Jaime said, over and over, gently petting her head, "Okay, it's okay. It's okay."