A/N: Hi to the new readers who've recently joined us – please let me know your thoughts if you haven't already left a comment! And thank you to those who have been here from the start. I love reading your feedback, although I can't promise that there won't still be bad things to come (what can I say, Dragon Age is set in a brutal world).
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains references to rape.
Escape
When Sylvanna regained consciousness, the first thing she became aware of was the pain.
It was around her and within her, all-consuming and unavoidable, demanding her entire attention. It hurt to breathe, her lungs rasping like sandpaper bags, a curious pressure on her chest that she realised with horror was probably due to a series of cracked or broken ribs.
The second thing she became aware of was Morrigan, peering down at her with a concerned look on her face.
"Morrigan?" Sylvanna asked in a hoarse voice. "Why are you dressed like a sister? How did you find me?" Briefly, she wondered if she was still dreaming or dead. She was in far too much pain to be dreaming, though – everything ached, and she was freezing, on top of that. She glanced down, and was alarmed to see the amount of blood – hers, she assumed – congealing on her naked body.
"The ring," Morrigan said curtly, reaching into her pack for a poultice.
Sylvanna touched her hand to her neck. Somehow, her necklace was still intact, the tiny wooden band still suspended on the chain, its surface further darkened by splatters of blood. "Is that lyrium?" she pleaded, reaching out for the bottle Morrigan was holding.
"You used the last of our supply killing Howe," Morrigan said uneasily. "We haven't had a chance to brew more."
Sylvanna stared at her, not believing her ears. She felt a wave of nausea come over her and gagged, swallowing hard to avoid retching what was left of her insides all over the floor.
"Here," Morrigan ordered, thrusting the salve in her face. Sylvanna took it with shaking hands, dabbing it across her swollen face and neck. Instantly, her cuts sealed over, and the pain dulled to a faint ache. She smeared the poultice over her side and chest, feeling its healing powers as a surge of warmth against her bruised and bloodied skin. The poultice could only help so much, though; any broken bones would have to wait.
"Could you... turn around," she asked. As the witch looked away, she used the rest of the salve to tend to her other wounds, wincing with the effort.
"Is there anyone else with you?" Sylvanna asked when she had finished.
"Only Leliana. She's looking for your things – your armour, your weapons-"
"I'll need something new to wear," Sylvanna said desperately, her arms curled over her body strategically to preserve what little remained of her modesty.
"Take this," Morrigan said, taking off the chantry dress she had layered over her regular robes and helping Sylvanna into them. Raising her arms over her head made her feel faint, but somehow between the two of them they managed. "Can you walk?" Morrigan demanded.
"I'll have to," Sylvanna said pragmatically. "Help me up." As she stumbled to her feet, she saw Leliana out of the corner of her eye, carrying what she hoped was her staff.
"You poor thing," Leliana said when she saw her, pulling Sylvanna into a careful hug. The gesture hurt, but it was reassuring; Leliana felt safe, familiar.
"I'm glad you're alive," Sylvanna said. "Did Oghren and Zevran – did they make it?"
"Yes, of course-" Leliana began.
"We should get going," Morrigan said sharply, looking over the two of them with narrowed eyes.
"I'll go ahead, see how many guards are out there," Leliana offered. "How are you?" she asked Sylvanna uncertainly. "I mean, are you able to fight?"
The elf shook her head. "I can use the staff, but I don't have the energy for any spells. Morrigan will just have to disable any patrols we see and we'll need to move past them as quickly as we can before anyone sounds the alarm."
Leliana nodded, looking grim. She slinked away from them, her form blending in with the shadows so easily that she was almost indistinguishable.
"How did you get here?" Sylvanna asked Morrigan as they waited. "Did they really believe you were a Chantry sister?"
"They truly were that incompetent, yes. We entered through the main doors without any trouble at all." Morrigan hesitated, then went on. "Do you wish to talk?" she asked, uncomfortably.
"This is hardly the time, is it?"
Leliana returned at that moment. She glanced at the two mages uneasily, but chose to make no comment on the obvious tension between them.
"There are seven guards on the main floor. They just seem to be chatting I think, and spread out – in groups of two and three about twenty yards apart. There may be some patrols further up as well, but I couldn't be sure."
Sylvanna nodded. "We'll need them to gather together, and in a way that won't cause alarm. Leliana, if you get back into your Chantry robes and draw them together, Morrigan will take care of the rest. We'll need to make a run for it and deal with any patrols on the way."
The two women nodded, with Leliana quickly pulling her robes on over her Dalish leathers. Sylvanna leaned heavily on her staff; it was the only way she could stay upright without swaying. Leliana had recovered almost everything of hers – her dagger, her belt and gloves, even her boots – but she felt vulnerable in the ill-fitting Chantry robe, its garish colours doing nothing to help her fade into the background.
Leliana finished dressing and the two of them turned to Sylvanna expectantly.
"Let's move," Sylvanna ordered.
.
.
.
Her plan went off without a hitch. The guards in the common room were sleeping soundly, unconscious even before their heads hit the ground. Sylvanna could see the door leading to the outside world, tantalisingly in reach.
"Halt!" a voice called from behind her.
"I think not," Morrigan said, launching into a spell. The three guards who had snuck up behind them suddenly landed on the floor, twitching in pain.
They continued onwards, their pace hampered by Sylvanna's injuries. At the end of the hallway, guided by some inner suspicion, Sylvanna turned her head to glance back at the patrol that Morrigan had stunned, still collapsed on the floor. A tiny gold insignia on one of the guard's armour caught her eye and she held up a hand for her companions to wait, her eyes widening.
"That's one of them," she whispered, her voice filled with hatred as she pointed her staff towards him. Any other time and she would have launched a fireball directly into his face. It would have crippled him for life, if not outright killed him.
"Sylvanna, we have to go," Leliana urged her, taking her hand.
"Don't touch me!" the elf snapped, breaking free of her grasp. "That man doesn't deserve to live."
"Leliana's right," Morrigan said unexpectedly. "We need to leave – now."
"I thought you, of all people, would understand revenge," Sylvanna said bitterly, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, made even uglier in pain. His death was so close, she could almost taste it.
"I understand survival," the witch said. "Don't be a fool - this is not the time."
Sylvanna could feel tears of anger and frustration welling in her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Behind them, there were sounds of the guards in the common room waking up, shouts ringing through the hallway. Leliana was watching her anxiously, waiting for her call.
Turning away from the sergeant felt like a physical blow to Sylvanna, the last defeat in a day full of defeats. The two women beside her gave sighs of relief, guiding her out the final door and into freedom at last.
.
.
.
They travelled for what felt like hours, through the back alleyways of Denerim and along dark, deserted streets. She had no idea how Leliana knew where they were going and at that point, did not really care. Every breath was agony, every step a challenge. The exertion had reopened at least one of her injuries; she could feel blood soaking through her robes down her side.
"A little further," Leliana said encouragingly, looking back at them. Her face went pale when she turned to Sylvanna. "Oh my... you look terrible," she said, reaching into her pack for a poultice.
"I just need to rest for a bit," Sylvanna protested, clutching the wound at her side. The loss of blood was making her feel dizzy, every part of her burning in pain. "I think I'm going to pass out," she said helpfully, just before her head hit the pavement.
