Making the Best of the Worst

She first became aware of cold stone at her bare back and coppery wetness in her mouth. Valeria spat, her tongue roving about the inside of her mouth from habit alone to check for missing teeth. Loghain's men had made quite a show of force when taking them into custody, and Valeria suspected the knot at the back of her head might be a concussion.

She had known that there would not have been an option to go along quietly with the soldiers. She had killed Howe after all, and elite soldiers were never called in for a quiet arrest. Ser Cauthrien had intended to make an example out of them all along – Valeria had hoped to be able to cut a path through them, yet her troupe had been sadly outnumbered.

And Anora, that traitorous bitch; any sympathies Valeria held for the queen perished immediately. If anyone would have been able to help avoid a physical confrontation back there, it would have been Anora. Her position could have given the wardens amnesty if she had spoken on their behalf. Yet she had instead turned on the very people she had pleaded for help. She had knowingly allowed the last of Ferelden's Grey Wardens to be captured; unable to fulfill their purpose and end the Blight. For that, Valeria now considered her as great a threat as her father; one who must be eliminated as quickly as possible.

Alistair.

The last memory she had of her lover was seeing him from the corner of her eye as he fell to his stomach, the pommel of a sword striking at his temple. Such a blow often killed and at the sudden return of the memory, Valeria's eyes snapped open, her body growing rigid.

To her immediate right was a brick wall, wet and slick with mildew; to her left a broad, bare back lay beside her, blocking her view of what lay beyond. Yet the site of that back brought an inundation of relief – she knew those contours better than she knew her own body, and they were shifting over the movements of steady, even breaths.

"Alistair," she whispered gratefully and the man at her side pushed upright instantly, peering down at her with anxious eyes.

"Oh, you're awake," he breathed, "thank the Maker. I thought they might have cracked your skull. I was starting to worry."

Valeria pushed herself to a sitting position beside him. Her head swooned for a moment before she was at last able to take an accurate appraisal in the dim light that filtered into the back of their cell.

Alistair's temple was bloodied and there were quite a few ugly bruises on his bare torso and arms that proved he had not been compliant. The others were nowhere to be seen, but then Ser Cauthrien had said that only the wardens were to be taken into custody. Valeria doubted very much that the soldiers would have been able to kill Morrigan or Zevran – both had the skills necessary to escape without detection if they had to.

The wardens, however, had not been so fortunate, and had been stripped to their small clothes and locked within a cold cell with only a fetid bucket of water and the rotting remains of a bedroll. Valeria was grateful Alistair had chosen to leave her on the bare stone.

"Fort Drakon," she whispered and Alistair nodded. She gazed about their surroundings and with a sinking feeling of dread she understood that her secret fear had at last come to life. From what she could see of their surroundings they were in a restricted area, undoubtedly a place used for interrogations and torture. This was not a place that was used for long term incarceration; and yet it was too heavily fortified to house those guilty of trivial infractions.

They were not meant to leave this place alive, she realized. When they had found the captured Orlesian Grey Warden, Riordan, he was being kept in Howe's dungeons – not the most heavily fortified prison in Ferelden. That she and Alistair had both been brought here meant only one thing; Alistair's identity had been discovered. If Loghain didn't know already, it would not be long before he was informed.

But with the danger of Alistair's exposed identity, it also came with certain benefits, she calculated. If they could get to a public figure – Arl Eamon for instance – Alistair's parentage could be announced to all of Ferelden. Those who opposed Loghain's abduction of the throne would have a valid opponent to back. And, if only to safeguard their own interests, they would see to it that Alistair's security was preserved. Essentially where she had once only had Leliana, now entire armies would be keeping their eyes and ears alert, ready to thwart any hired blade of Loghain's that thirsted for Alistair's blood.

Let the issue of who would actually take the throne wait for another day. For now Valeria would be content to throw the masses a juicy bone, and let them work to her ends until she could find a more permanent solution. She had to smirk at herself – Maker, she was actually beginning to think like those noble bureaucrats now.

Valeria rose to her knees and winced, shifting her position. Alistair's eyes darkened.

"They didn't…" his voice was low and grave. Valeria's nerves frayed slighty at the way he watched her – like she was about to keel over dead. "I wasn't conscious when they disarmed us. I don't know if…" he pressed a hand to his face, his features screwing up in frustration. "They didn't… touch you, did they?"

Maker's Mercy! Did he not understand the precariousness of their situation? Here they were, having obviously been sentenced to death, if not tortured first, and Alistair could not get beyond that? For Alistair's peace of mind, Valeria quickly took stock of her injuries.

"No," she said. "Just a few bruises." She twisted and winced. "Maybe a fractured rib and a minor concussion. Are you alright?" Alistair's shoulders sagged with relief.

"I've been worse. I'll be better still once we're out of here," he admitted. Valeria agreed, her eyes scanning the area beyond their cell. Nothing was within reach they could use to escape, and the only guard stood on the other side of a wide corridor. He had been watching them with veiled interest, watching her mostly, and only turned his gaze when he noticed she was aware of him. Clearly one of Howe's men; from the way he held himself perhaps a cocky thug brought in from the back alleys, but most certainly not a trained soldier. It repulsed her the way the man's eyes strayed to her thin undergarments, and Valeria began to understand why Alistair had huddled her between himself and the back wall.

It also gave her an idea.

"Let's get out of here." She muttered, looking about to make certain no surprises might lie in wait; her mind working to piece together the means to their escape.

"I hope you have a plan." Alistair smirked mirthlessly, clearly insinuating that he was out of ideas. Valeria nodded after a moment.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?" Alistair frowned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" She sensed Alistair's hesitation. He was no fool; clearly he knew that he was not going to like what was coming. Yet he did not refuse outright.

"Tell me what I need to do." He muttered at last.

"Wait back here in the shadows and try not to attract attention until the time is right," she said, pushing herself slowly to her feet and reaching up to smooth her hair and brush the grit from her face. It seemed ridiculous, and in all honesty, for this she would rather Alistair not have been present. But he was here and she was out of ideas. Feigning sick or injured would do no good – the guards hadn't even given them dressings to tend to their wounds. This was the only option Valeria could think of.

Making certain to give her hips a fair amount of swing, the female warden strode slowly to the cell door. Behind her she heard Alistair groan softly in dread, and then he was silent.

"Ser? Excuse me," she reached the front of the cell and leaned against the bars, pressing her chest to the cold metal and lifting a knee between the bars as though they were the legs of a lover. The man's eyes snapped to her once more, drifting down with seeming habit to take in the full sight of her.

"If you aren't bleeding I don't care," his voice was gruff, but there was an edge to it. An eagerness. Valeria forced herself not to tense. This man was a dolt; a lecher who had not enough whit to know when he was being played. Valeria thanked what bit of fortune had given them that much of an advantage, at least.

"I was just lonely…" she said softly, "and I'm a little cold." She prayed that wherever her mother and father were, they couldn't see this. Her mother would have switched the skin from her rear personally no matter what the reason for the ruse.

Thankfully the jailor had either failed to notice Alistair, or had disregarded him completely. Valeria dared not look back at her fellow Warden to see how well he had managed to hide himself in plain sight.

"I… could keep you company," the armored buffoon said at last, stepping away from his post and fumbling with the keys; and Valeria wondered which noble's idiot son this was to have been given such an important position without having the necessary skills to hold it. With a jerk of his chin the man signaled Valeria to step away from the door, and she did so without hesitation. She stood patiently, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Once the door had locked behind the man, Valeria affected a saddened expression once more.

"It will be hard to warm myself against metal," she sighed sadly, rubbing her arms. "I suppose this wasn't such a good idea after all…" The guard reached up and fumbled with catches.

"I can have this off in just a moment. Maker they put a lot of buckles on this thing." He grumbled as he set to work. Valeria dared not press her luck, and stood waiting, watching with what she hoped appeared to be obedience. This fool made poor Sandal seem sensible! She prayed the man wouldn't notice Alistair in the shadows; that he would get at least a few pieces of armor and reveal a couple of weak points off before the ruse was discovered. His gauntlets were deposited on the floor followed by his cuirass, leaving a helmet of only moderate coverage and boots. With a grin that made Valeria's throat clench in disgust the man took a step towards her, trying to kick out of his footwear as he moved. His breath smelled of ale; no doubt a contributing factor to his stupidity. His fingers reached out to scrape at her bare skin, and Valeria's hand fisted at her side.

Alistair seemed to find this sufficient, for in the same moment the jailor's eyes grew wide with fear, the male warden was upon them, crashing a fist into their captor's throat. His follow-up blow caught his victim beneath the ribcage, and the guard wretched as he fell to the floor. Valeria bent and pawed at the greaves and cuirass, fumbling through the metal armaments, seeking out the keys to the cell. Behind her the quiet impacts of fists striking flesh and low grunts from the guard continued as Alistair thrashed the man thoroughly. When Valeria at last had the keys in hand, they were racing for the exit; Alistair slamming the cell door shut and holding it in place while Valeria jammed the key home, breaking the thin metal spine in the keyhole as she locked it. Alistair glared at her, infuriated.

"The next time you ask me to trust you, remind me of what a fool I was to do so this time!"

"We're free, aren't we?" She hissed.

"And if he had taken you from the cell?" Alistair demanded, his arm thrust beside her head as he gestured to the incapacitated man they had locked with the cell. "If he'd taken you somewhere else… if he took you where I couldn't help if you needed me? Maker's Breath, woman, what foolish thought was going through your head?" Without looking, Valeria pointed to her right.

"That." She said flatly, and Alistair turned, his fierce expression dulling. Beyond a small balcony the view was unimpeded – devices of torture and death filled the chamber beneath. "More precisely, you and I in there, having to listen to one another scream. Are you still a fool?" White teeth flashed in that boyish face as he grimaced briefly.

"Yes," he sighed, "but I'm not so sure about you anymore. Let's just go. The sooner we're out of here the better."

Though his voice was still tight with annoyance, Valeria knew that Alistair would hold no fault against her for her little ploy. He was silent as the ventured through the massive chamber, happening upon a small armory that held the uniform armor of the tower guards. They each donned a set, and helped themselves to some weapons as well, though Valeria grumbled at having to use a sword rather than her favorite dagger.

His words still echoed within her thoughts, sparking indignation within her. He has scolded her for placing herself in danger. He had scolded her. Of all the absurdities!

"What makes you think I would have needed your help anyway?" She asked after a time and a fair amount of skirmishes against small fists of guards along the way. Alistair glanced up at her, clearly not understanding what she meant.

"I beg your pardon?"

"If the jailor had taken me from the cell." She clarified, trying not to outright bicker. "What makes you think I would have needed your help?"

"Maker's Breath," he muttered, "are we back to this again? We aren't, are we? Tell me you are not trying to have this discussion here of all places. This isn't exactly the best timing, Valeria."

She glowered at being chided by him… again. "You said it. I'm only asking for an explanation."

"I don't know that you would have needed my help," he allowed, "but what if you had?"

"You believe that you could have helped, with no weapon, no shield, and wearing only your smallclothes?"

"Point taken." He gritted. "So is that it? Are you quite finished reminding me how absolutely inept I am at protecting you, and how vastly independent you are?" Valeria stopped in her tracks. Well when he put it like that…

"You're not inept." She argued. Alistair grunted noncommittally, and their conversation was abandoned so they could focus on dispatching another handful of guards they had happened upon. Alistair seemed to cut their quarry down a little more violently than usual, and with none of his characteristic taunts. Valeria began to feel very petty. There really had been no need to ask such a thing. My, how one's ego does expand after a few successful missions, she thought bitterly of herself.

"I didn't mean to make you feel badly," she said at last when they were finished with the final guard and he had begun to stride down the corridor ahead of her. Alistair said nothing. She had to hurry to keep up with his long strides. "You're not inept, Alistair. You're one of the most capable people I've ever known."

Still silence.

"Alistair?" She said, feeling worse with every moment he held his tongue. "Look… even though I can take care of myself, I admit that having you around makes me feel… safe. And to be perfectly honest, the idea of not having you fighting at my side, it's not something I would ever want to face."

"So, even though you don't need me, I make you feel safe?" He made it sound as though he found the notion ridiculous.

"I do need you Alistair," Valeria admitted to his back, as he refused to turn and face her.

"You need me." Alistair practically scoffed.

"Yes."

"Because you don't want to fight alone?"

"Among other reasons." She said.

"Those being…?"

How could he ask her that, she thought, a little hurt. Didn't he know how important he was to her? Didn't he realize how desperately she cared for him? As she opened her mouth to recite to him a list of reasons why he was so vital to her, he glanced over his shoulder – one brow cocked, his cheek pulled high over his smirk. Valeria sighed and shook her head. He had been toying with her. That blasted cheat!

A guard appeared from around the corner. Valeria grinned at Alistair's ruse and her own foolishness at having fallen into it.

"Shut up and fight," She chuckled.

Beyond the guards were bellowing furiously, the clattering noise of their armor clashing against stone walls. Yet Alistair's grin remained rooted firmly to his features. "If you insist."

XXXX

This is my take on why our heroes ended up in the tower when Riordan had only been sent to Howe's dungeons: the Cousland for the murder of Howe, and Alistair for his parentage. Couldn't go straight to the smut, you know. They had to get out of the tower first… ;o)