a/n: Honestly, this just written as a birthday present to myself, and because I wanted to write something with Dragon Age. I just got to Fort Drakon on my Dalish, Lichae, who is a huge hippie so don't mind him. Warnings for boylove, becuase Lichae is not only a hippie but likes to shack up with Zevran on any play through. He's silly like that.

First time writing Alistair and Zevran as well. ...Yarr.

The warden had been captured.

"I should have gone with," Alistair said, staring down at a cold plate of food. He'd had no appetite, really, and it had only been at Wynne's insistence that he'd even gotten the food.

"And then you would have been captured as well," Zevran said, watching candlelight reflect off a dagger that wasn't his. He hadn't put the dagger down since their dear Warden had turned himself over to the guards.

"Trust me, Zevran. More death will just make us look like monsters," Lichae had said. He'd gone with them, willing, though he'd turned his bow and Dalish over to Zevran before the guards managed to grab him. The two things were his dearest possessions, and Zevran felt a spare moment of honor that he'd been trusted with such things. Then Loghain's men had tied Lichae up, hands behind his back, and the moment had been gone.

Funny. In any other situation, Zevran would have joked about liking the sight of his warden all tied up.

"That doesn't change that I should have gone to get Anora in the first place! And you. I thought you had…you know, feelings! For him! Why'd you let them take him without a fight?" Alistair frowned across the table at the Antivan.

Zevran kept his eyes on his dagger. "He wanted to go." He cursed softly, in Antivan, tapping the dagger tip on the table, then waving it in the air, almost dismissively. "He is naive. An elf. Dalish. He doesn't know what he's in for there."

"And you do?"

"In order to become a Crow, we are tortured, to ensure we can stand pain," Zevran replied, simply. "Well then. Are you going to help me rescue our Warden, or are you going to sit and brood over your cooling dinner?"

"Of course I'm going to come!" Alistair replied, instantly.

His head ached, stabbing pins and needles into the back of his eyes. The guards hadn't exactly been gentle, but Lichae had done his best to show no weakness. This was nothing compared to his blood markings, all of them, but that didn't mean he was eager to stay. He was already planning a way out, shaky as the plan was.

He could hear screams, all too close. These humans were torturing people, innocent people. None of the guards and torturers were without blood on their hands, and so that meant he had no need to try and preserve any lives. Still, he sat in his cell, finger brushing his hair for what he guessed was several hours. He hoped that he looked small, and scared. It would make things easier. He tried to think about everything that he'd learned from Zevran, combined what he'd learned in years of wrestling Tamlen and the other boys in the clan.

Human ears weren't as sharp as animal ears. Their senses weren't as strong. This forest may have had no trees, but he would figure something out. He couldn't wait and hope for a rescue. He only hoped that Anora was safe.

He eased the tiny pin he used to keep his hair back out of his hair and moved to the door when he heard the guards talking. It was nice that they weren't taking him seriously. A elf? A dalish? Surely he couldn't be dangerous.

They wouldn't have a chance to put their new found knowledge of underestimating a dalish to use. He eased the pin into the lock carefully, listening and waiting. A turn here, a press here, a patient wiggle there, all lead to a smile when there was a click. He pulled the pin back and placed it back into his hair, gathering as much as he could. The less that got into his face now, the better.

He opened the door, the cursed when the guard patrolling past the door spotted him. He moved quickly, sweeping a kick to know the guard off his feet. Laden with armor, the guard fell, yelling in surprise. Lichae grabbed the guard's sword before the guard could, swiftly driving it under his chin and into his neck.

"Abelas." Lichae pulled the sword back out. "Go to your Maker." He dropped the sword and pulled the key ring off the guard's belt, tossing it into the other cage. He didn't say anything to the other prisoner, who had spoken to him when he'd arrived. "Good luck." With a smile he left.

He managed to find a dagger when he darted into a side room. It was hardly the fine and worn craftsmanship of his Dalish one he carried, but it would work and these human swords were far too heavy for his use. He was a rogue, not a warrior. The skills he had would only work with lighter weapons, for speed.

When he darted into a room to avoid guards turning a corner, he found himself pleasant surprised. There was his armor, laid across the table. Good. He wouldn't have to escape in his near-naked state. While it might have been impressive to make it so far in only his small clothes, he didn't care about impressing people. He only cared about getting out in one piece. He pulled his armor on quickly, buckling straps and tightening laces on his arms with skill and speed that came from years of practice. He didn't bother with his boots. His weapons weren't there, but that was no great loss. He still had a dagger and his hands, even if one was holding his boots.

Lichae peeked out the door before leaving, hurrying down the hall silently. This stone floor was no challenge after years of walking around fallen branches and leaves on hunts. A few guards coming out of a room down the hall made him quickly dart back around a corner, peeking around it. They were coming toward him, yes, which meant that this conflict was unavoidable.

He listened to their footsteps, counting, estimating distance. When they were close enough he gripped his boots, stepped around the counter and threw them as hard as he could. One of the boots hit a guard square in the face before he could even figure out what it was, and by the time he recovered Lichae already had the other guard on the floor, neck snapped. A stab to an unprotected armpit kept the second guard from getting his sword, and another neck snapping finished him off before he could let out more than a short cry.

He took no chances. Any guard could have heard the cry, small as it was, so he hurried along, picking up his boot and dislodging his knife from the guard. He ran down the hall now, dispatching guards as he came to them. The boots were surprisingly useful. Most guards found themselves at a momentary loss when hit in the face with a boot. Really though, how did one react to that?

If the humans were smart, they'd react by ducking, but Lichae had learned early on that most guards weren't much for thinking. They were trained to patrol, and how to swing a sword and block with a shield. They were trained to follow orders and not question them, and that made Lichae almost feel sorry for them.

He followed the path he was certain lead to the entrance, if his memory served correctly. Just a few more doors, that's all, and then he was home free, if he could get through the city to Arl Eamon's estate. There were guards in the front few rooms, he remembered, but it wouldn't be hard to get through and - Creators! The door was opening! Someone was coming through the door, and they'd see him, raise the alarm, and he'd have to fight the rest of the way at once. There was only one thing to do.

He'd strike first, take them by surprise, and give himself the barest of edges.

He didn't bother to look at who was at the door. He merely braced himself and, when the door began to open, threw a boot.

There was an exclamation, but it wasn't Ferelden. It was Antivan, and Lichae stared as Zevran ducked out of the way and the boot hit Alistair square in the face. Alistair went down, and Zevran stared.

"Makers's breath!" Alistair said, rubbing at his face. "Was that a boot?"

"Very resourceful," Zevran said, sounding amused as he looked down at Alistair. "Was that boot? You are lucky Morrigan is not here."

"Maker forbid," Alistair said, still sounding dazed. "Can we leave the boot thing out of the rescue story? I'd really prefer that."

"You came to rescue me?" Lichae looked between them, lowering his dagger.

"That was the plan," Zevran said, crossing his arms as Alistair stood. "However, it seems you have rescued yourself!"

"…I got tired of waiting," Lichae said, innocently, going to retrieve his other boot. "You should all have been protected Anora as it is-"

"She's fine," Alistair said. "Arl Eamon's estate is plenty safe."

"Good….Then when we get there, I can sleep." Lichae smiled when his statement made the two others laugh.

"Meyhe!" Lichae said, hugging the Mabari hound tightly when it jumped on him the moment they arrived at the estate. A scratch behind the ears told the Mabari that his master was fine, but Meyhe still followed Lichae around as he went around the estate to their companions, removing the mystery of if he was alive or not.

If it had been up to him, Zevran would have swept his warden away and to bed as soon as they'd arrived. He knew Lichae well enough to tell when he was tired, and the day had been incredibly long. Unfortunately it wasn't up to him. A few minutes after arriving Oghren had demanded to hear the story of the daring escape, and Leliana had agreed, saying she needed it for her songs of their adventures.

They had all ended up in the dining room, listening as Lichae told the tale. Alistair looked thankful when Lichae didn't mention anything about tossing a boot at him, breezing over that part and saying that they'd simply met up near the entrance.

"And now, I think our Warden needs his sleep," Zevran said, and Meyhe barked in what sounded like agreement.

"I'm fine," Lichae insisted, but Meyhe growled. The Dalish laughed. "Okay, well, if Meyhe says so." He scratched the Mabari behind the ears, and the dog's little tail wagged.

"That is for the best," Wynne said. "It's been a long day for everyone, and even longer for you and Zevran and Alistair. Though, I do wish we'd had some warning to where they'd disappeared off to."

Lichae laughed as he stood, one hand resting on his Mabari's head. "It all worked out in the end. But..I am a bit tired. I think I will go to bed."

"And I will make sure he goes," Zevran said, standing as well. When Lichae left the room he followed. He watched Lichae. Everything spoke of weariness, from the occasional stumbled step to the slump in his shoulders to his head was hanging, slightly. "Ah, my Warden, taking so many things upon himself. What are we going to do with you?"

"Before or after you ravish me in celebration?" Lichae laughed, but even that sounded tired.

"Oh, after of course. But, later. I fear the wrath of our companions if I keep you awake much longer." Zevran smiled. "Come Warden, I will tuck you in, and then we can grumble at your dog when he won't get off the bed."

Meyhe just barked as Lichae laughed and leaned against Zevran.