Warning:

The following contains references and threats of (but not actual acts of) sexual assault


Arl of Denerim Estate

Several days later


This miserable cell was her life now. Stained with her blood, but not her tears. Not yet, anyway.

That, and the 2 meals she got a day.

Ahh, and let's not forget her visitors.

Ser Cauthrien was certainly someone who followed through to the letter of her word, which was a scary prospect of itself. But even she was no sadist like Howe.

Between the two, Elissa considered the fanatical knight a reprieve.

Next to her was an older man holding a parchment and quill.

'Andraste preserve me' Elissa groaned inwardly. They were still trying to get a confession out of her.

Well, it was time to do her part in this farce.

"This ends when you stop this charade!"

"I have no further games to play with you, Ser Cauthrien." she croaked back. "We can play twenty one questions as much as it suits you, but just because you do not like the answers, does not mean they will change."

The dark haired knight snarled at her "We've received reports of a large Orlesian force amassing at Gherlen's Pass. What are they planning? What orders did the Empress give you?!"

"I was planning on hosting a winter ball for them." Elissa rolled her eyes "It's my birthday next month. They might be Orlesians, but I think they'd prove better conversationalists than my current captors, present company included. Besides, Celene promised me a pony."

The stenographer turned to Cauthrien, and with a completely straight face, asked "Should I write that down?"

A murderous glare was the reply, then she turned her attention to an amused Elissa.

"What a depressing job. Do you record everything we say? 'Ah please, not the face! Not the face!' How about the gurglely sounds when we breathe our last? How do you write that, specifically?"

"The only thing you should be concerned with is your present condition."

Elissa shrugged "You're absolutely right. It's boring here. All I do is wait until Rendon gets the urge to strike me or spit on me like a horse thief. Or until someone decides it's time to pass me the scraps from the kitchen."

Before Cauthrien completely opened her mouth, Elissa continued "Yes, I get it. Talk, or it's more pain. More wasted time. I cannot know how many languages Loghain speaks, but I can only repeat the same thing I've said, which is the truth: I. AM. NOT. A. TRAITOR. I've never met Empress Celene, or her bards or saboteurs. I've never consorted with foreign powers. I didn't conspire to have Anora killed or otherwise tossed aside so I could take the throne. And I've no idea what my family is planning, because I haven't seen them in…Maker's breath, how long have I been held here?! Your Regent Loghain has completely lost it! Can't you see that?!"

Cauthrien slammed her hand on the brick wall next to Elissa's head "Silence, churl! I will not have you speaking of your betters like that in my presence! Loghain bled and fought for this country before you were even born."

Elissa eyed her carefully "Such passion. Is that loyalty, or something else, Ser Cauthrien?"

She continued to glare, but pulled back her hand.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but I'm afraid we are out of time." The stenographer spoke up. "Teyrn Howe and the Regent are scheduled to meet with the recent guest of state. Here, I have the paperwork."

The clerk pulled out a parchment, and Elissa could recognize at least one of the sigils before Cauthrien batted his hands down.

"Ahh…I see your Regent has gotten desperate. That's a Tevinter symbol. Tsk tsk tsk."

Elissa shook her head, and wore a grave expression "Whatever they are offering your army, it's not going to be worth the price. I can promise you that. They'll gouge you for all you've got and leave you with the bill, or the ashes."

"Enough!" Cauthrien shouted. "Have it your way. Enjoy your time with your future father-in-law."

She stalked off, and her escort struggled to keep pace.

"You know what's going to happen to me."

Cauthrien was caught off guard by the shift of tone in Elissa's voice. She turned halfway.

"I'm a young woman, with no friends, branded a traitor." Elissa's composure was cracking "How long do you think I'll be safe here, what with all the guards watching me? Do you think Rendon and his company swore an oath never to violate a woman's honor?"

Silence hung in the dungeon, mute as a crypt. No one said a word. The implication was simply allowed to hang between them, like a guillotine suspended over them both.

Eventually, Elissa spoke again, her voice now accusatory "You placed me here. If something happens to me, that's on your conscience, Ser Cauthrien."

Another long, uncomfortable spell of silence…

And then Ser Cauthrien turned back and continued her stride, saying not a word.


Another day or two passed. Some other prisoners were brought in.

Elves. More from the Alienage, it looked like.

Her pain and misery was not inconsiderable, but when Howe's soldiers and torturers started their work on her new cellmates, it was all too easy to count her blessings. If she ever escaped, their screams would haunt her dreams forever.

Hope seemed distant.

No.

No, there was hope.

Her family was alive, and she was going to see them again. And even if she didn't, they still had a good chance of surviving. Howe hadn't won yet, despite all of his posturing to the contrary.

She just needed to wait for the right time to make her escape.

The only thing that concerned her was if she would be in proper shape if that moment came?

Howe was always a monster, but even she didn't truly appreciate how sadistic the man was. It wasn't a chore to him: it was a sport.

A way to assert his domination over her.

It wasn't just corporal punishment either.

Rendon also enjoyed toying with her mind.

Yesterday, he whispered in her ear that it didn't matter who was the Father of her child, as long as the man was of Howe blood. So in the end, her cooperation or resistance didn't mean anything; he would take what he wanted.

It was a terrible and cruel thing to be proven right, when you prayed to the Maker to be wrong.

Elissa was a proud woman, but she couldn't quite believe that she wouldn't break under such…depravity.

It still turned her stomach thinking about the stink of his breath, his calloused fingers…

She needed to get out of here.

The door of the Arl's study opened.

"Not again…" Elissa closed her eyes, bracing for another round of torture.

A single pair of footsteps clapped on the resolute stone. Warm light radiated from the hallway until a torch appeared.

It wasn't Howe. No, she recognized that dark beard anywhere.

"Elissa."

"Thomas."

He approached, and raised the torch. The light made her wince. She hadn't seen sunlight in days.

Various cuts, bruises and other wounds were all over her hands and face.

"Oh, I consider myself lucky, I assure you. Your Father does delight in making me suffer, but he needs me, in some form that you can loosely refer to as alive." Elissa raised an eyebrow "Those elves he keeps bringing in, though? It's more like he wants them. Tell me, have you ever heard the screams of a man whose flesh is put to a brand? Or when they beg for mercy when the rack table stretches their limbs and pops them from the bone?"

"Elissa, please…"

"And that's nothing to say of what happens to the women. I haven't seen your Father take part, but I do recall giving his permission to some of your guardsmen for a little…'sport', they called it."

Thomas closed his eyes in shame.

"Having second thoughts now? It's a bit late for that, isn't it? You chose your side."

He leaned in closer, "I want to end this."

"Then end it." Elissa shrugged, "Go upstairs, find your Father and put a sword into his gut."

"Elissa, you need to tell my Father that you'll agree to marry Nathaniel."

Her fury welled up.

"This is the only way that they'll clear you of treason and you'll be let out of here."

She was openly snarling "You want me to beg too, on my hands and knees, is that it?!"

Her fury subsided a little. "That smell. Drinking again?"

Thomas didn't say a word.

Elissa didn't even bother to look at him. "Wonderful. My Father's former best friend is using me as a training dummy, and you're…what? Getting rounded?"

She turned to him and leaned in.

"Well, you don't deserve to be drunk right now. You don't deserve to feel good."

He cast his gaze downward. "I know I'm a coward. I didn't tell you what my Father was planning…but what was I supposed to do? Elissa, you know what he's like. He would've killed me if I betrayed him."

"So you chose to betray me instead. The woman you claim to 'love'. And left my family to the wolves."

He tried to speak again, but was interrupted.

"Thank you for confirming what I suspected as well; that you knew. You knew, and did nothing. Three days before Rendon's forces arrived at Highever, you came to visit and ate our food, drank our wine. All the while knowing that you and yours were coming to cast us Couslands down. Those you had sworn your life and sword to. Maybe you wanted to tell us, to tell me. But in the end, you didn't."

Silence marked his shame.

"What would your mother think of you, having turned into an oathbreaker not once, twice, but three times in a single day? You and your Father broke the sacred rule of hospitality. Rendon slew my men in the night as they slept, while you sat safe in our halls and pretended to be a friend. That you also purposely failed to warn your liege lord of danger is also a breaking of your oath to the North. It is rebellion by omission, and tacit approval of your Father's crimes."

It visibly stung Thomas to be called an oathbreaker, but it was all he could do to just stand here and take it. He steeled himself for the worst, as her voice lowered to a whisper, one tear betraying a deadly, scorned fury.

"But the deepest, most personal oath you broke…was to me. Your wife to be. 'Faithful until we part, remember?'"

A joyless laughter escaped her lips. "I suppose next to Queen Anora I'm simply not as attractive a prospect for a bride, am I? What was it? Not blonde enough? Or did Rendon whisper promises of power in your ear?"

"It wasn't like that."

Her teeth were clenched "Do tell. What was it like, then?"

He felt physically choked up. Finally, he spoke "I…it was always his plan in life to have one of us Howes on the throne. You know how ambitious he is. What was I supposed to say to him? No?"

"Don't speak to me of what is hard, Thomas! Don't you dare! Try being put to iron and steel for a week and tell me then what is hard! Tell those poor elves who will likely never see the sun again, the ones you helped put here, what is hard!"

More silence. Thomas again, being berated for not being good enough. For being a failure. He was used to it coming from his Father, but not Elissa.

"But the funny thing was," Elissa continued "while I knew you were acting strange days before the attack, that's not what completely tipped me off to this shameful coup."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Not telling you."

Instead, she decided to speak on what was on her mind "What I will tell you, is that I would sooner let a diseased, rotted Ogre take me under a decrepit bridge in the middle of winter than marry you or Nathaniel. That's my answer. Meanwhile, I'm sure you'll enjoy sitting on the throne with Anora. She is quite pretty, isn't she?"

"Elissa, I-" the words were caught in his mouth.

"Do you truly think anyone will respect your rule as King?" she snarled, but then flashed a malicious smile at him "A King of Fools, perhaps. You're absolutely unprepared. If your Father isn't pulling your strings behind the throne, Anora will sink her claws into you and tear you apart. And if you manage to deal with all of that, you'll still have to deal with a Bannorn in full rebellion, the Blight, and your new Father-in-law Regent Loghain. I do not envy your fate, Thomas."

His shoulders slumped. "I know. I…I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before."

She immediately thought of Cailan, Alistair, the Grey Wardens, Ostagar…

"None of us can go back to that now. Our King is dead. But you have a choice to make in this new world of ours. And you need to decide now."

Her visage of wrath softened just slightly "If you help me escape this place, I will consider your past actions to be the foolish, but dutiful actions of a son's loyalty to his Father. But if you leave me in this place, this Maker damned hell, I swear that by the Old Gods and Andraste, there is no force on Thedas that will save you from me."

The moment stood between them. She watched him closely, as he took in a deep breath.

Thomas Howe straightened up, gave her one last soulful look, and returned to his bedroom upstairs.

You will regret this, Thomas. I swear it.


Of course, Rendon must've heard that Thomas's efforts to persuade her didn't pan out, because he came down upon her like a fury the next day.

After he ceased raining blows on her, he straightened his tunic.

"You've proven to be recalcitrant beyond reasonable measure. So, I think I'll have to get a little more creative with how I deal with you."

Upstairs, Delilah Howe was moving her things to her new quarters, when she observed a guardsman holding a…

A branding iron?

He was making his way down to the dungeons, and Delilah felt a chill run up her spine.

Elissa was her friend, perhaps her best friend at court. She remembered how they used to play together in Lord Eddelbreks fields, or when they got into trouble in Vigil's Keep. It was she who had defended Delilah from the worst of Vaughn's advances, or the endless, mean spirited mockery from her cousin Habren.

And Elissa, beyond everyone except perhaps uncle Leonas, was the only one who could see what Father had become.

Moments later, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hot iron pressed against flesh, and a woman's scream.

Delilah covered her mouth, but there was nothing to stop the tears.


Her body was starting to break…

…and so was her spirit.

It was hard to keep track of time.

Equally hard to hear any news. None of the servants sent to give her food and water wanted to talk much. Didn't blame them. If she had to work for someone as odious and morally bankrupt as the Arl of Amaranthine, she'd probably keep quiet too.

The only other interesting thing was that a raven kept flying into the dungeons. It kept looking at her, then looking all around.

Some hours later, she thought she heard some guardsmen yelling.

More yelling.

Something was happening.

A fluttering of wings, and the raven returned, staring at her.

"What do you want? I've nothing to offer you."

She was not prepared for the response.

An explosion of air and expansion of mass, and the raven transformed into a humanoid shape, until at last, it settled into the form of a dark haired woman in purple rags.

"Indeed. Tis more likely I have something to offer you, instead."

She raised her right hand.

"Stand still."

The irons chaining her to the walls were frozen solid, one by one, until they were brittle enough to break under Elissa's weight. A slender pair of hands caught her.

"You may, or may not remember that I am Morrigan."

"I would normally ask questions…" Elissa groaned "But I think I'm going to just save us both the trouble, because I really want to leave this shithole."

"How sensible of you." Morrigan approved. "Come. Let us not linger."

It was not easy at all to walk. Ignoring the fact that she had been recently put to the iron, the fact of the matter was she'd fought in a few battles, nearly died, was taken captive and then tortured relentlessly.

But she had to try to escape. It was now or never.

A thought occurred to her. The elves.

"The others."

"There is no time." Morrigan's voice was firm, resolute.

Elissa opened her mouth to protest, but Morrigan gave her a hard look, and shook her head.

She was in no position to do anything but what she was commanded. And as heartbroken as Elissa was to leave them to their fate, she swelled with hope that joy that her freedom was at hand.

And with that joy, came great shame, that she was simply fortunate to not be those left behind.

The Arl's study was empty. There were some frantic footsteps in the hallways, but once they passed, Morrigan and Elissa made their way to the main atrium.

Something was clearly diverting attention to give them a chance to escape, but Morrigan would not say what.

They were very close to the front doors, when a figure stepped out from their left.

Both women instinctively tried to hide, but they were in plain sight.

Morrigan went to cast an ice spike, but Elissa lowered her casting hand.

"Delilah."

Elissa's childhood friend had her mouth parted a little, and jumped when she heard another voice coming from the other hallway.

"My Lady, did you still want us to accompany you to the Arl's study?"

Elissa was staring at Delilah.

Delilah leaned her head back toward the direction of her guards, who were out of sight.

"Actually, can you help the others at the side entrance? I'll see what I can find in the storage to deal with the fire."

"At once, my Lady."

The metal boots clanked back toward the kitchen.

Delilah turned back, and nodded to the both of them. Elissa nodded back.

Thank you, Delilah. Maker bless you. I won't forget this.

Elissa and Morrigan quickly made their escape out of the Arl's estate, while the guards and servants rushed to the side entrance to deal with the raging inferno that Morrigan had started.

Some time later, Rendon Howe returned to his new estate to check on the fire, his family, and finally, his hostage, in that order. When he brought the torch to her cell and saw that it was open, he didn't even bother to look inside.

"Guards!" he screamed.

In the Marketplace, a pair of two, hooded figures were quietly walking past the sentries. None paid them any mind, not even as they passed through the city gates and left the shade of the city walls.

Only a single guard watched them mount their horses and gallop away to the north. His train of thought was interrupted by a messenger boy, panting from the exertion, who was holding an envelope from the new Arl of Denerim.

The wind soothed Elissa's skin as she raced Morrigan on the road. The night sky was brightened by the moon. It was good to see the outside again!

She gently leaned forward and yelled to her mount to go faster, a permanent smile on her face, her mix of emotions only demarked with the tears streaming down her face.

It was time to go home.


Sorry if the warning was either insufficient, or the opposite. I can't know who's reading this. But this is Dragon Age! One of the Origins contains a story exclusively featuring rape and sexualt assault. It fits in the theme of this universe.

In fact, while we are on the subject, looking at it from that lens, I find Anora's possible betrayal (and Cauthrien's involvement) of the Warden to be sent to Fort Drakon, to be completely vile, especially given:

1.) Anora's knowledge of what happened to her grandmother during the Orlesian Occupation. You can't tell me Loghain did not tell his daughter what happened to his mother.

2.) That the Warden can be a woman. Not that it could not happen to a man either, but the point still stands.

This is partly why this chapter exists. Gameplay can ignore consequences like the above, but fiction helps to fill in the potential blanks that some may choose to ignore. I won't.

I do have more chapters already written up, but the speed/pacing of releases might get considerably slowed due to real life responsibilities. Still, hope you enjoyed, and hope to have more soon!