A/N: Longer this time and fairly prompt!

"Hold," He whispered, reaching out to catch the ex-Templar's arm, "Do not step down there."

Alistair was poised precariously on one foot and Ffion moved to his other side to take his arm so he wouldn't fall over. Instead he stepped backward and Zevran crouched, examining the booby-trapped stone. The only indication that there was something wrong was the slightly raised edge that had to be looked for. The Elf didn't attempt to disarm it and straightened in one fluid move. His amber eyes were skipping along the floor and picking out the safest route for them. He waved the others back a little more and stepped over the trapped stone.

"Step only where I do," He instructed in a voice below a whisper, "None of us desire a violent end, yes? And disarming these traps is quite a frustrating business."

Alistair waved Ffion ahead of him while the young Warden was instructing Tilly to walk directly behind her.

"I'll watch her," The ex-Templar offered in a whisper.

Together, placing each foot as if it would indeed be their last, they picked their way along the corridor and found themselves at another doorway. Again, there was the soft murmur of voices and Zevran sacrificed another one of his handy little distractions. There were only four Dwarves here but this fight was more fierce. One of them looked to be half human or Qunari as he was a good head and shoulders taller than the rest and had double the girth. But Alistair and Zevran, for all their differences, made a good team. And neither one was about to let Ffion get harmed.

The room was a jail, or holding place of some kind and they took their time looking around once the Dwarves were taken care of. To their left were a couple of steps that led to a raised section where three cells were located. One held a Dwarf that was far beyond their help, but in the one next to him was another young Dwarf leaning on the cell bars. His black hair was lank against a face that was very gaunt and his hands were gripping the heavy metal bars so tightly it looked like he might fall over if he let go. The deeply shadowed eyes were sunken with hunger and his very cracked lips parted slowly.

"Please..." He whispered in a broken voice, "Help..."

Ffion was already rooting through the pockets of the dead Dwarves and she finally came up with a ring of heavy keys. She smiled a little at the Dwarf as she approached his door.

"You'll be okay," She said quietly, "I'll get you out."

He didn't seem to be paying attention. He was looking at the neighboring cell and his face became longer.

"Too late..." He muttered, "Why, Faren? He jus'... gave up... Stopped eatin' an'... I can't leave him here."

Ffion had successfully managed to open his cell door and instantly put out her arms as the Dwarf stumbled into her. She staggered under his weight and Alistair was stepping forward to help. They steadied the Dwarf and Ffion winced as he squeezed her hand so hard it felt like he was trying to snap her fingers. She opened her mouth to answer him but Zevran was faster. He had deftly picked the lock of the next cell and was bending over the dead Dwarf. Reaching with one hand to close the staring eyes, he said,

"Your friend is beyond help and he would be too much for you to handle alone."

"I ain't leavin' him," The Dwarf replied stubbornly, his voice strengthening even as he clutched Ffion more tightly.

Zevran was standing, his eyes a little annoyed as he looked back at them. Ffion was the one that spoke next, feeling her heart soften.

"The way back is clear," She said, her grey eyes on the Dwarf's black, "You would be able to go and get some help and come back safely."

He snorted, pulling away to attempt standing on his own. It worked this time and his gaze was contemptuous as he looked at her.

"You have my thanks, cloudhead... but you're damn thick if ya' think a... casteless will ge' help from those soddin'..."

His strength seemed to go out and he deflated. Alistair put one steadying hand under his elbow and the pity in his eyes was palpable.

"Things can't be that bad?" He asked quietly and Zevran's impatient shifting was going ignored.

The Dwarf had turned his contempt to the ex-Templar but before he could light into him, Ffion interrupted.

"Then we'll come back for him," She said firmly. One of her hands was digging through the small bag strung to her belt and she pulled up a thick slice of ham that she had snagged from Tapsters earlier, "Here, take this, and go find something to drink. We'll take care of things down here and I promise you, we will come back for your friend."

The Dwarf accepted the ham greedily and was in the middle of a huge bite when the Warden's words froze him in place. His black eyes grew even wider and he forced the swallow, blinking at her.

"Are you... You ain't teasin', are you?" He managed, "Why would you... a cloudhead, trouble yourself wi'... one of us casteless?... It don't make sense."

"It's the right thing to do," Ffion answered briskly and glanced around them at the room, "We have to get moving, but like I said, we'll come back for him. He deserves a proper burial no matter what his circumstances were."

The Dwarf had time to stammer his thanks as she dropped a few silvers into his free palm and gave him the formal farewell. Zevran and Alistair followed after the Warden and her hound, too surprised by this sudden turnaround to pose any arguments.

"Ffion..." It was Alistair that was finally broaching the subject as their surroundings went from stone corridors to packed earth. Hopefully this meant they were getting closer to Jarvia.

"What in the Maker's name is a cloudhead?" She cut in with a frown, "I think he meant it as an insult, but it doesn't work too well when your target doesn't get it."

Zevran was laughing in delight before he remembered they were trying to be cautious. Alistair blinked down at his fellow Warden with a smile curving his lips. She looked so sweet and innocent, and it was amazing how quickly she morphed from their 'rough-and-ready' leader to a very young girl. And all in the blink of an eye it seemed.

"It means you come from the great wide world, my pet," Zevran purred, "He just does not know as we do, yes?"

Alistair was still smiling at her in that almost tender way and it was the ex-Templar that got them back on track.

"And that's one of the nicer insults, believe it or not," He pressed on with his original question, "Anyway, do you really think that we'll have time to come back and get that Dwarf?"

The Warden had let Zevran move in front of her as he was much more accustomed to spotting traps than she was, and she herself focused her gaze on Tilly since the hound would be the first to hear any adversaries. She gave a little shrug of her shoulders as Zevran tilted his head to listen.

"Well, it was better than letting him attempt to haul his friend back to Dust Town and killing himself in the process."

Alistair's sigh was relieved and he smiled at her again, silently commending her for some very quick thinking.

"So you were just trying to placate him?" He replied, "Good move."

"Yes and no," She frowned as Tilly perked up, cocking her head, and then settling once more. Zevran had also paused, but with both of them pressing on, Ffion didn't think anything of it, "He wasn't strong enough to do it on his own, which was very obvious. But I have no intention of going back on my word. He's not the one to take something like that lightly and I'm not the type to promise something and not deliver. Once we take care of the thugs here, there's no reason why we can't come back and carry that body for his friend. Yes, Zev, I mean it."

This last was directed at the Elf when he started to turn, his full lips parting in what she could only assume would have been an argument. They weren't given the chance to go into detail. The path ahead of them continued straight, but they had reached a section where two short jaunts ran perpendicular to theirs, and they were as surprised to see the group of Dwarves as the Dwarves were to see them.

The fight that followed was quick and very tense. It was four of them against eight Dwarves and they very nearly didn't come out ahead. Tilly took a glancing blow from an axe to her shoulder, Alistair was shot twice by the scout's bow before Ffion's knife finished the Dwarf off; Zevran's green tattoo had a deep slash cutting diagonally across it, and Ffion was slammed into the wall of the tunnel so harshly they worried she had dislocated a shoulder. It felt like a battering ram had used her upper shoulder and collar bone for practice, and if it hadn't been for Alistair's quick thinking and even quicker shield bash, she wouldn't be standing among them. In fact, her companions would have returned for two bodies instead of just Faren's.

"Now, if we had the wonderful Wynne-"

"Don't," Ffion interrupted Zevran without looking at him as she paid attention to her dog. Her words were clipped and short, her breath slowly returning to normal. She was pulling out a little kit that held heavy thread and several needles, each one a varying size, "I'm standing beside my decision and the only thing that would change my mind is if all of us were to die."

She was well aware of how silly that sounded, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Besides, she had kind of done it on purpose, succeeding in making Alistair chuckle and Zevran cast her a wicked smile as they knelt beside her and helped to stitch Tilly's wounds. The little kit was a remnant of Ostagar and one of Duncan's abundant practical ideas. It had been a gift from the senior Warden and Ffion sent him a quiet thanks as Tilly remained still. The hound's hide twitched with each stab of the needle, but she knew her lady was helping and so didn't shy away. Alistair received attention next but the arrows hadn't done too much damage and he was content with a few tight bandages until Wynne showed up.

The dirt track did end up being a sign that they were coming closer to Jarvia and, after another mile or so of the twisting tunnel, they came up on a heavy metal door; fortified against any attack, of course. But none of the thugs seemed to take into account what would happen if someone managed to snag the keys Zevran was rattling a little too eagerly, hunting for the right one.

"Is this really a good idea?" Alistair muttered in Ffion's ear as the Elf tried another key and the tumblers in the lock gave way.

"They'll assume we're one of the scouts," She answered, but was running her fingers over one knife hilt rather nervously.

"Until they see us," The ex-Templar's tone was dark and his honey colored eyes were on Zevran's, "Do you have any of those little explosions handy?"

"Of course," The Elf said smoothly, "But I agree with our dove. Jarvia is a most curious woman, and she will desire to learn how we bested her men. We will have an excellent opportunity to stall the fighting until our little party arrives. Now let us enter before they get even more nervous, yes?"

And without waiting for an answer, the Elf shoved the door open. They were back on a regular stone floor with carvings that led the eye up to the ceiling and the huge stone beams that ran the width of it. These were connected to four wide supports that Sten could have easily hidden behind. There was a raised dais at the back of the room and the torches were flickering off of the stone in a way that was almost disorienting.

"What the hell's this?" The growled voice came from the shadows to their right and there was a burly little Dwarf with pale brown eyes that were narrowed to slits, "Who're you?"

"We came here for an audience with Jarvia," Ffion's voice was quiet, but firm. She was afraid that her words would tremble if she spoke too loudly.

"Well, isn't that too damn bad," The Dwarf replied and advanced a little, "You can either tuck tail an'-"

"Caro! Since when do you have the authority to turn away guests?" The new voice was anything but welcoming and by her tone, she would've been better off saying 'bastards' instead of 'guests.'

But Caro was cowed and he sent a quick glance over his shoulder before grunting and motioning them to enter. Zevran didn't like that the Dwarf moved behind them and he felt rather than saw the other slip into place there as well. Ahead of them, a female Dwarf was coming down the steps and behind her were two more scouts with bows. The Dwarf woman was middle aged and would have been quite attractive if life hadn't been so hard on her. Her dark brown eyes were hard and cold as they surveyed Ffion's party. She was wearing leather armor that was well taken care of and had been around for some time. Her straight, near black hair skimmed her jaw and the rune-like tattoo that decorated her right cheekbone somehow worked for her.

"I trust you have a good reason for barging in on us?" Her voice was cool and superior.

Ffion's hackles were up and her fear was replaced with a sudden rush of anger. She squared her shoulders and stepped forward, all at once becoming the Teyrn's daughter. The sight of the scouts tightening their hold on the bows and the sound of the guards loosing their axes went ignored.

"You have a traitor in your midst," She answered, pulling the finger bone out of her pocket and flicking it at the Dwarf's feet, "You might want to check on that."

Other than a brief clench of her jaw, Jarvia seemed unmoved. She had come to a stop a few yards from them almost, but not quite, putting her hands on her hips.

"So you're the ones," She said, "We had heard Harrowmont finally took action against the Carta but he still doesn't bother to send his own to defend his city," She snorted in contempt and her eyes were locked on Ffion, "Tell me, Warden: that has to sting, even if it's just a little."

"If it takes down your thugs and strips you of whatever power you think you have, it'll be worth it," Ffion was standing forward, ready to go toe-to-toe with this arrogant, would-be mobster, and a quick gleam of torchlight caught the tripline of the trap at the bottom of the steps. Her brain was already forming a plan when Jarvia started bragging.

"You are aware, cloudhead, that it's not a fight you'll win? Three and a quarter against my Carta? You must be thick."

Tilly started growling, recognizing the insult, and Ffion did some bragging of her own as Alistair and Zevran closed ranks with her.

"And you're aware, Dwarf, that your Carta is nothing but a field of bodies? I think the odds just tipped back in our favor."

Jarvia's face twisted as her hands clenched and the Dwarves behind the party started forward.

"If that's so, you'll pay for it, you little bitch," She snarled, "Leave the pretty one alive, boys, I have a special treatment for her."

Ffion moved faster than the scouts could. Her knife left her fingers and snapped the tripline that she had spotted earlier. Like she hoped, the trap sprung and the explosion blew the archers into the far wall. They slammed against it and slid to the floor, remaining motionless. Jarvia dove at the Warden as Alistair took on the guards with Tilly, and Zevran was busy with a sixth Dwarf that seemed to spring from the shadows.

Jarvia very quickly gained the upper hand and she fought dirty. Ffion was scrambling back, on the defensive. Jarvia's dual blades were blurs and it was all the Warden could do to keep them from her flesh. She got a reprieve thanks to Tilly. The Mabari had taken out her Dwarf and sprang clear when Alistair's was knocked into her path. The hound collided with Jarvia's legs and made her stagger. Ffion took her chance and ducked away as well, slashing one blade across the Dwarf's exposed back. Jarvia spat out a curse and was whirling to face the Warden in a blur of blades and dark hair. Ffion was a little more prepared this time and with Tilly beside her, things didn't seem so hopeless. She met the Dwarf's swings with her own and didn't think twice about fighting dirty herself. She lashed out with a swift kick every now and then and tried to remember all the tips and tricks she had picked up from the duals and fights with Gilmore. Although there could hardly be a true comparison. Rick had never been trying to kill her... that she knew of anyway.

Jarvia was quick to drive those thoughts from her head. She kicked back, forcing Ffion to jump to the side. Her feet tangled in the legs of that first guard and she stumbled, watching in dismay as Tilly was knocked aside with a sharp yelp. Under the right circumstances, the scene probably would have been rather comical. That which can go wrong will go wrong. And then Jarvia was taking the chance to hurl herself at the Warden while she was still off balance.

Time seemed to slow. Zevran finished off his Dwarf and was turning to face the room, but there was no way he'd reach Ffion in time. Alistair was still tangled with the guard and Tilly was slowly getting to her feet, shaking her broad head and whining softly. Ffion realized she was on her own and she braced herself, waiting for the blow. Which never came.

Jarvia was knocked clean out of the air by some unseen force, and Sten was hollering his Qunari battle cries as he dodged Morrigan's continued spells and took out the Dwarf with one sweep of that huge broadsword. The familiar twang of Leliana's bow preceded Alistair's guard being cut down, and Wynne immediately cast her healing magic over all of them. Ffion let out a sigh that was relief itself as the pain in her shoulder disappeared and Tilly trotted over to her, happy and content.

"Just in time," She commented, dropping her swords to her sides, "Any trouble along the way?"

"None," Leliana answered, her cheeks dimpling as she tucked her bow away, "You all are very thorough, no?"

"Try to be," Alistair cut in and started towards his fellow Warden, "Are you okay? She didn't-"

There was a flicker of movement behind Ffion and she let out a surprised gasp, stumbling forward. Leliana was the first to react.

"Back!" She ordered sharply, bringing her arm up in the same breath.

There was a little click of a catch releasing and the Dwarf assassin that had materialized behind Ffion was dropping with a long silver dart lodged in his throat. Alistair had caught Ffion's arm to steady her and the young Warden was blinking at Leliana as she rearranged the gauntlet on her left arm, tucking the little firing mechanism away.

"I need to find one of those," She said, her voice oddly breathless. Alistair was frowning at her, his lips parting, as she rolled her shoulders and wondered at the hot pinpricks running across her lower back, "But I think… I think he got lucky."

Zevran was instantly moving forward as Ffion's knees buckled and Alistair caught her more firmly. The assassin's blade had torn through both leather armor and soft flesh and blood was dripping steadily onto the stone floor. The others gathered around as the ex-Templar scooped her into his arms. Leliana was snatching up her discarded blades, Zevran hovered helplessly close by, and Wynne cast more of her magic. The frown that creased the Enchanter's forehead was not encouraging.

"I'm afraid that blade was poisoned," She said quietly while Morrigan motioned to the dais and the two doors there.

"'Tis possible one of these is a shortcut," The witch offered, "The sooner we get back, the better, yes?"

Sten was tossing her the set of keys he lifted from Jarvia's body as Ffion struggled in Alistair's arms.

"No," She protested weakly, trying to free herself, "I… I made a… promise. We can't… we - ah!"

Morrigan had flung open one of the doors to reveal a short flight of steps that led up. Tilly whined at the sound of her lady's pain and the concern in the witch's gold eyes was evident even if her voice didn't betray it.

"Promise?" She repeated, "What on earth was it this time?"

"Sten and I will go," Zevran interrupted, giving Alistair's shoulder a push, "Take care of her."

"Like I won't," The ex-Templar muttered quietly and disappeared up the steps.

Wynne, Tilly, and Leliana hurried after him while Morrigan paused, arching her brows at the Elf.

"Do I really want to know?" She said coldly.

"A question only you can answer," Zevran's amber eyes began dancing, "You need to pick which is greater, my lovely: your curiousity or your concern about our dove."

The witch scoffed and turned about with a snap, gliding up the steps and out of sight. Zevran's feral smile softened some as he clapped Sten on the shoulder and turned to head back they way they had come.

"Come, my friend, let us set little Ffion's heart at rest, yes?"