Work Text:
Shianni comes naturally by her inability to think things through, Tabris knows. Tabris has never hated more than when she stands over that sniveling noble's son, listening to him whinge about gold and threats and power, over the sobs of her half-dressed cousin, as if payment for services rendered would do anything to ease the torture he's put them through. She's not thinking about the shems' reaction to an elf killing a human, killing a noble. She's not thinking about the riots this death might spark, the deaths the alienage will suffer. She's just thinking 'one less shem to treat us like we're something less than human, mindless toys to play with until broken and then thrown away like garbage.'
“You don't have anything I would ever want,” she says, gutting him and leaving him to bleed out while she helps her cousin.
Nobles. Arrogant entitled monsters who think themselves better than someone by virtue of who their family is. The world would be better off without the lot of them. Maybe she can take a few more out before she's led to the noose.
At Ostagar, she thinks the king just the same. Young and stupid and the world owes him everything, don't you know who his father is? His general seems more levelheaded, she thinks, even after the massacre. It is only months later, standing in the center of a room of cages, dead slavers surrounding her, her hahren sold and lost forever, her father barely saved from the same fate, she realizes he's just the same too. They're mindless toys to him, to be thrown away like garbage.
The gleam of maddened hatred in her eyes is even brighter than Alistair's as his sword ends the general's life.