AN: Alright. You were warned. This chapter has some light bondage, and a dubious consent scene, followed by (presumed) kidnapping. Bioware owns the characters.

-x-

The Road to Ostagar

-x-

The night is painted in bright colors. Duncan leads you down a game trail, away from the fighting. The smoke tickles the back of your throat. The clash of steel is audible even at this distance, and when you look back, you can see flames lighting the sky. You lick the salty sweat and tears from your lips. The moon has not even risen yet. You feel alive, yet detached, as if in a dream …or a nightmare.

There is a split in the game trail you have been following. Your throat feels gritty and it takes you two attempts to speak, "Left." At first you think he doesn't hear you, but casts a glance back at you, then follows your directions. The night no longer feels cold, just cool, against your heated skin. The moon silently rises, casting the woods into shadows, as you put more distance between you and your old life. Just a little longer… Xion nudges his nose into your hand as you enter a small glade created by felled tree.

You whisper, "There." A rotting tree stump draws your attention. If I can just remember how to open it… Duncan looks at you dubiously. You shake your head and open your kit. Out of a special pocket, you draw a long, thin bar with a hook at the end. You use the pry bar to pull out two large knots of wood. Reaching just inside both recesses, you pull out a peg of steel from each one. Yes… that's it. Reaching straight back would end with you on the receiving end of some pretty nasty contact poison.

You grunt, "Nothing worth having is easy," as you slide the pry bar into a fissure in the bark and then pull hard. A large portion of the trunk falls away, leaving a spacious alcove, filled with supplies. You look over at Duncan triumphantly. He looks like he has just been stunned by a shield bash. You laugh and shake your head. "Everyone has enemies, especially the nobility. Always be prepared." You deftly organize the stash into your pack, passing a couple of things to Duncan to place in his. You give some dried meat to Xion, who wolfs it down, his stubby tail wagging.

You take a silver tip writing piece and jot down a quick note on a piece of vellum, and tuck it inside the stump. You pull out the money and leave some of it there. Just in case… Fergus needs it. You push the thought away, resolutely. He is on his way to Ostagar. Hopefully you will meet him there. If he and the men were ambushed on the road, he may need some of the coin. Without looking at Duncan, you put the stump back together. "Another hour or two out on this trail is a place where we should be able to rest." You describe the location to Duncan, and then let him take the lead.

-x-

The moon is high in the sky, and the mists begin to roll in as you reach your resting place. It is a sandstone bluff, riddled with small caves and pockets, with a swift stream running past it. Xion runs up the path ahead of you, alert, but not aggressive. You pass several suitable camping places, aiming for the one you remember. The colors of the sandstone are distracting you a bit; you don't remember them being that colorful, especially in moonlight. You dismiss the notion, shaking your head, and chalking it up to the fever.

The moon has an ice ring around it, warning of a colder night coming. A little farther upriver, you find the location you were looking for. Xion beat you to it. He sits proudly at the cave entrance, holding a piece of driftwood in his mouth. You grin suddenly. "Good boy, Xion." You pet his head and thump his ribs.

Duncan shakes his head, "Is this the place?" He looks around; there is dense cover overhead from the trees lining the stream, which goes around a bend. "Not a lot of visibility…"

You smile wanly at him, "Ahhh, but there are several things we need, which this place can provide." He looks at you again. You count them out on your fingers. "Number one: it is hidden. Number two: it has an escape route. Number three, and most importantly: there is firewood and tinder here, which we can use for a fire, without being detected. The trees above disperse the smoke. With so much of it already in the air, Howe's men won't be able to tell where we are by smell."

"Very well, if you think it will be safe enough, we will stay, but we will need to leave again as soon as possible."

"Fergus and I discovered this place many years ago, and we have already tested its viability as a safe location." Fergus! How can I tell you? You head into the cave. "Also, Xion has already checked it out for us. Thus, the driftwood." You motion to Xion, "C'mon boy." The three of you head into the cave. It is less cramped than the other caves would have been. You point out the escape route in the back of the cave, and then turn to get the fire started.

Duncan begins stripping out of his sweat stained clothing, and takes off his armor, and gets a dry change of clothes from his pack. You soon have the fire crackling. Duncan goes out with a pot, for water, "To make soup." While he is gone you change clothing as well. Pulling out the vellum again, you write another note and put it under a rock in the back of the cave. Standing up afterwards makes you a bit dizzy.

You sit down again, staring into the coals of the fire. This isn't how it was supposed to happen… You don't look forward to telling Fergus what happened. Tears streak down your face and you see Howe's men leering at you from your memories. Howe will pay for this! I know I never liked him, but my parents trusted him. How could he? Why would he?

You rein in your memories and dry your tears before Duncan returns. You grab your pack and pull out a dried shredded beef and bullion packet, and an herb packet. You hand them to Duncan to put in the water. He sets the pot down close to the bed of coals and adds the packets.

He sits down, "Do you want to talk about it?" His voice is full of understanding and sympathy. You poke the fire with a long stick. Is it too soon? You think back. You have never heard anything but good of Duncan. He is a great warrior, and his eyes show a canny intelligence. He has probably heard many stories.

You stare at the coals, they draw you in. Would it be easier to pretend that nothing had happened and this trip was her scheduled one? No. You resolutely push the thoughts of forgetfulness. You would not betray your family the way that Howe did. The only way to respect them is to remember them. How they lived. What they lived for. Why they …died. You take a deep breath-

...and are caught by the sight of the tattoo on your right wrist. It is small, and almost unnoticeable against your tan. You rub at it with your thumb, willing it to go away. That week will never go away. You shut your eyes against the memories, but realize it makes them more vivid, and you stare into the fire again. You shake your head and notice you have been holding your breath. You let it out with a sigh.

"I don't even know where to begin, Duncan. You know I've wanted to join the Grey Wardens for years, but that father wouldn't let you take me into the order until I was nineteen. I doubt he ever told you why, however."

Duncan shakes his head, and says softly, "No, your parents would not tell me."

"They wanted to be sure that Fergus's heir would live to adulthood, as he will …would inherit." You take a deep breath and continue. "If I hadn't been mad for the Wardens, I would have been put into a political marriage. Likely I would have been wed to Bann Teagan, or some other noteworthy noble. However, my parents had a visit from King Maric, sometime before he died." You shift your position to stretch a little.

Duncan says nothing. Leaving it to you to speak or not. There is no censure in his eyes.

"Please believe me when I say that the next thing I speak of is in the utmost of confidence. The only other person living, now, that knows of this is my brother, Fergus. I need your word that you will not speak of this unless for some reason both I and my brother die."

He holds your gaze, "Very well, I agree that no one will hear of this from my lips, while the Cousland line lives on." You smile slightly. He will understand momentarily why his wording was funny.

"At King Maric's instigation, my parents put into play a plot that would ensure that Cailan had an heir, despite Anora's seeming …infertility. Cailan does not know." You look up at Duncan's indrawn breath. "You begin to see the picture I am drawing. Well, I was fifteen, and thought I knew everything." You laugh at yourself. "Surely every teenager feels the same."

"King Maric knew of Cailan's trips to the brothels. It was thought that Anora was simply a cold fish in bed. Cailan apparently liked his women younger than his wife… and young women were …acquired for him. I had never been to court, so there was no chance he would recognize me. So…" In for a silver, in for a sovereign. "…they substituted me for the young woman that was procured for him."

Duncan's eyes were dark, "Surely they could not use their own family in such a way…"

"You misunderstand me, Duncan. I was willing to do, well …that. My parents had made a deal with me. I would never have to marry, never give up my freedom, and I could join the Grey Wardens with their blessing. …In exchange for giving Ferelden hope for the future." You stare into the fire, and don't mention how the plan went wrong. I …can't talk about that. I've never told anyone… No. You keep your secrets firmly in hand, and prevent the tears from falling. "No one ever found out. As far as anyone knew, mother and I had gone to Denerim to visit her friends. Fergus, Oriana and Oren, along with father had gone to visit one of his friends." You push more scenes from your mind and focus on telling the story. "We met up with them later, on the road. Mother and I, along with Fergus and his family then went to Antiva. Father returned home. Many months later, Caitlyn was born, and I… I returned home." You turn away from the fire, eyes fever bright and wet with unshed tears.

"You are a brave woman." The soup is ready, and Duncan ladles it out into a couple of wooden bowls and hands you one, with a carved horn spoon. You are not really hungry, but eat regardless. You will need your strength.

As you eat, you consider his statement, and eventually you shake your head. "We did not win our independence only to have the royal line fail for the sake of pride. Frankly, I think I got the better end of the deal, say, than Queen Anora. At least I only had to deal with it at the time. She is still with him." You smile at the thought.

"Please rest. I will take first watch. You have been through a lot. We will head out in the morning." He settles down to sharpen his sword and dagger. He appears deep in thought. You crawl into your bedroll and watch by the light of the flames, until you fall into a fitful slumber.

-x-

Your dreams go where your mind refused to. You realize now that one of your many minor cuts must have had deathroot poison. However, you can't seem to wake yourself up, and your mind returns you to the remembered nightmare…

The tattoo on your wrist is only the most visible part of the shame visited upon your body. You shudder in remembrance. Your psyche bears other scars that no healer can help.

You are waiting in the room where you were bid. The walls have golden wood paneling, and the floor is covered by wine colored carpeting. You sit on a large four-poster bed in a short, sheer nightgown. The linens are a pristine white. The room is warm enough, but you shiver nervously. The door opens, and there is not one man, but four. The one in front must be Cailan, he is dressed as nobility. Two are guards. The last one… must be a mage. The guards are posted outside; you can hear them talking quietly, though you cannot make out the words. The mage enters the room with the king. No one speaks. The mage closes the door behind them.

Cailan walks over, sits next to you, and presses you back into the bed, leaning over you, kissing you deeply. After a few moments you come up for air, gasping. Suddenly, he raises your hands over your head and he grips both of your wrists in his left hand. He returns to kissing you, but his right hand wanders across your body. You struggle a bit, squirming. His face has a hint of a smile at your attempts to get free. He knows you are not trying hard. He gestures with his head and suddenly you can't move a muscle.

He goes over to an armoire and opens the doors. You cannot see what he is doing from where you are held prisoner. He returns to you, and you feel something soft tied around your wrists and ankles. He moves you to the center of the bed. He ties your wrists over your head. As the paralysis wears off, he ties your ankles wide apart. He returns to kissing you, and lets his hands wander where they will. Very quickly, he has you gasping and squirming, and he brings you over the edge, moaning, with just his finger tips. Wearing a smirk, he disrobes quickly and takes his pleasure from you. It is over rather quickly.

You lie there, shuddering beneath him. He gets off of you, gently unties you, and lifts you into a sitting position. He offers you a drink, a hand at your back. You still feel weak, and your thoughts are muzzy. You drink deeply, and only realize after you swallow that it tasted a bit off. He lets you lie back as a feeling of floating suffuses you. His eyes pin you with dark promises, and oblivion claims you shortly thereafter.

-x-

You wake up to Duncan holding you down, with a cool, wet rag on your forehead. "Maker, you can fight, girl!" Duncan growls at you as reality seeps in. You are no longer dreaming. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt, Elissa?" He sits back and offers you a drink from a water skin. You take a drink, your eyes wide. You taste a concoction of elfroot and tea, and swallow, knowing full well the effect it's going to have on you. Better that than the vivid dreams the poisoned scratch had.

"Drink it all. It will help against the deathroot." You follow his orders, even though you are bound to be miserably horny for the next day. You grumble under your breath. Stupid enchanter. If I ever find him, I'll slit his throat! Everyone at Highever had known that if she got injured she was a royal bitch to be around for the next day or so. No one had any idea that it was because it was a side effect of healing magic, rather than the injury, that caused it.

Duncan says, "Perhaps we should go now, rather than waiting. It will be dawn in another hour. If we make a long push, I know a place we can stay that is only half a day's walk from Ostagar." You nod your head in silent agreement, and pack up your kit. Better to travel. You know you won't be able to sleep. Duncan puts out the fire, and gathers his kit.

You walk all day, stopping only to take long drinks of water from the river, and once to trade some trinkets for fresh bread from a farmer they passed. You ask Duncan many questions about the Grey Wardens, as you had only studied them from history books. You are so full of nervous energy, that when you stop at midday, he shows you a few of the fighting tricks he learned over the years. You stay the night at a farmstead. You go to sleep early, exhausted, while Duncan catches up with his friend. The next morning has the farmer packing up his things, preparing to flee coming Darkspawn.

-x-

Just before you arrive at the ruins of Ostagar, Duncan pulls you to the side of the road. "You are aware that King Cailan will likely greet us." He waits for your nod. "He is overly enthusiastic about heading off the Darkspawn threat here and now. Do you think that he will recognize you?" For the first time, he looks worried.

You smile at him, slyly. "We dyed my hair, and it was only shoulder length at the time. I have had plenty of time to grow it out since then. I sincerely doubt he will recognize me as …what I once was."

Duncan looks at you critically. "Can you let your hair down? Also, while that tattoo is not necessarily visible against your tan, we should probably take care to hide it." You didn't realize that Duncan had noticed it, and flush.

Duncan winks at you genially. "Your secret is safe with me, I swear it." His eyes darken, "I have seen that mark before." He pulls out a fine pen and a vial of ink. "Do you trust me?" You nod. He takes the ink and draws an elaborate design over the tattoo, across the top of your hand and a little way up your arm. It is totally obscures the tattoo. He looks at you and frowns. He takes the pen and does a similar thing to your face.

"It is the best I can do. Hopefully he will only see a fierce warrior, that which the Lady Cousland is reported to be. The ink will need to be rinsed off in an hour. The stain will remain for a couple of weeks. Hopefully it will be long enough and we will have you out from under his eyes." He offers you a smile, "Let us eat here. It will be less stressful than at camp, I believe." Duncan sits and pulls out a packet of meat rolls his friend had given him before they left.

Before we head into Ostagar, we rinse off the ink and it leaves a dark brown stain upon my skin. He did beautiful work. I felt proud to be a Grey Warden recruit. I must remember myself like this. Perhaps it will help… We walked down the road, to Ostagar.