Angelique was the child of the accomplished Courtesan Giselle Bouchard and an unknown father. Mama would never reveal his name but she did receive a regular stipend for her support. Not much in the grand scheme of things, but it allowed them to live well enough. Their life was a wonderful time of light and music, and good friends. Angelique was well on her way to following in Giselle’s path when Mama was found brutally murdered. She was fourteen when she was orphaned. She had already been taken in by the Academy when Mama’s contract was extended, now she became their ward, educated and groomed to be a Courtesan. Fiercely intelligent she learned quickly and well. Two years went past and she blossomed into a delicate, doll-like girl, with huge eyes and and perfect cupids-bow mouth. But she never forgot Giselle, never forgot or forgave her killer.
So she entered the world of the Courtesan, entertaining the wealthy and powerful. Pleasing them and learning from them as well. She found if she flattered them enough, pleased them enough, they would tell her much, teaching her. She learned the rudiments of blade play, weapon use. More. Seeking always any hint, any clue to the murderer. She learned much from them, Court gossip, politics. One in a great while; a clue, a hint. Finally, several years later she had enough to piece to piece together a prime suspect. But there was a complication.%rShe found far more than she had bargained for. Or could have imagined.%rHer target was deeply involved in something. Something Treasonous. A plot, to kill or kidnap a member of the Ducal family.
Angel was many things; Orphan and Courtesan, would-be avenger of Giselle. But she was no traitor. Nor could she sit by and allow this crime to be committed, even if it meant foregoing her vengeance. Having many contacts now, she reached out to one, one that she felt could be trusted. She spoke with him, giving him the briefest summary she could of what she knew.%rSo it was she found herself summoned to isolated room at the Academy.The lights were low and the room dark, cramped. Especially, when they left her alone with two men. One, tall, strongly built, richly dressed in fine black cloth, masked. Silent as her regarded her. His companion, in dove grey, masked as well. With the black arm band marking him as a Wraith. One her land’s Dark Guardians. They questioned her for hours, cross-checking and re-examining her answers, her observations. Finally they seemed satisfied. The larger man, the one with the voice like black velvet, speech elegant, cultured and chillingly precise, asked her one last thing.%r/Why child, why do you bring this to us?Angel was silent for a long heart beat, then answered in her soft, so-young sounding voice.
An Evil man took my mother from me, so long ago. I hurt and swore vengeance to ease that pain. But these, they would do that and more, to the People of this land, my Home. To those we all owe fealty to. My own loss pales in comparison…I would do anything to spare us all such loss./ Something in her heart grew hot and fierce; Love of Country, Duke and People. The pain she had nurtured for so long? It was gone, swept clean by this realization. She found herself kneeling before these masked men. /Let me serve you, let me serve our People. I would give all that I am to protect the Duke, Country and People from such enemies. Let me serve al'Morena and Alasce.
So it was she was accepted for Wraith training, her contract bought out and she began a new life. She was placed under the tutelage of Theo, a rough looking man of keen mind and perception. Whatever doubts he, or the others might have had about a /soft/ courtesan joining their ranks, they were soon dispelled. Angel was agile, fast and stronger than she looked. And so very intelligent. Her will to succeed was astounding. She would emerge from test after test, sweating, bleeding and exhausted. But she would never quit, not till she had passed. But it was not grit and determination alone that lead her to succeed. Many a time, she would observe carefully, and find a way to succeed that even her instructors had not thought of. Little Owl, they came to call her, naming her for the Nocturnal predator, that strikes from the darkness without warning, the one that looks so soft and cuddly. WIth razor talons and a sharp beak.