A/N: Okay folks…this is a dark one. I have to, right off the bat, say that there are two trigger warnings for this chapter (abuse and sexual assault.) While the abuse is no worse than what we have already seen from Mortain, and while there is no actual sexual assault, merely an attempt, I none the less must advise that if these are triggers for you, do not continue.
That being said, I still feel that what is written here is no worse than what is in the actual Dragon Age games. Also…character death…sorry…
Anywho…please, please, please stick with me after this. There are only two more chapters left after this, and I GARUNTEE that you will want to stick around for the next one.
Whew…love to all my readers. I plan on doing shoutouts in the last installment, so look for some lovin' coming your way soon!
Also, there is another A/N at the end of this installment as I explain and justify some things.
An oppressive darkness surrounded Elissa, keeping her prisoner in a state of suspended time. Through it all Alistair's voice chased her, pricking at memories that still had the power to hurt and send her heart beating a staccato rhythm.
You are a dismal failure at how to gain trust and affection.
"I can't get her to respond."
I promise never to place you in chains of my making.
"Keep trying"
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met…"
"Your Majesty?"
"The way you trembled at my touch, the things you said…do not pretend that I played you very well this night, my lady."
"Please, you have to wake up"
"How was I to know what awaited me in you?"
"Move your ass, Elissa!"
"Elissa, don't go. I lov-"
"Alistair," she mumbled, willing her eyes to flutter open.
"He's not here," a grim voice said pointedly and Elissa turned her aching head to gaze upon the owner. A filthy and blood covered Shianni knelt by her side, eyes at once relieved and panicked. Frowning in confusion, Elissa pushed herself to sitting and took in her surroundings. The smell of mold and dust invaded her senses as she gazed at the large, dim space. Broken crates and decaying burlap bags sat tossed and forgotten in one corner, the only accoutrements in the room save ten rusted and wicked looking hooks that hung from the rafters.
"What sort of Maker-damned place is this?" she murmured, eyes refusing to budge from the sharp implements.
"Best I can tell, it used to be a butcher's cellar…now it's our prison," the elven woman said wearily. Elissa snapped her head at the words and gasped as everything came rushing back to her in a painful burst.
"Mortain…the elves…"she breathed as her eye lids flickered closed. Shianni merely nodded in defeat and Elissa groaned.
Flashes of memories battered her mind and she shuddered as each image flashed before her eyes in vivid detail: Ambrose being thrown across the room…hands grabbing at her arms as she fought against capture…Shianni screaming as they bound her wrists…blood…so much blood covering Ambrose as he tried to protect them in any possible way…her nails scoring a line down an assailant's cheek…and through it all, a distantly, almost familiar face grinning at her from the shadows.
"How?" Elissa managed, the one word the only sound she could manage as she came to terms with the new condition her life had taken on.
"It was one of us," a voice whispered quietly and regretfully from behind her. Elissa turned quickly, her vision swimming as she faced the unknown bearer. Once the streaks of black faded from her eyesight her brain was able to make sense of what she was seeing.
"Torin?" she breathed in disbelief. The man nodded and drew his legs up to his chest, arms hugging tightly to his knees. His ashen hair was caked with blood and filth, and bruises marred his milk-white skin, the swelling transforming his once delicate features into grossly deformed injuries. "How did you end up here?"
"Same as you," Torin muttered, jutting his chin to the far corner of the room, "same as all of us." It was then that Elissa finally saw her fellow prisoners: seven battered and bloodied elves huddled in the corner.
"The guard?" she whispered in confusion.
"They took us…straight from the barracks," Torin said despondently, "waited until the King's soldiers were occupied elsewhere and overran us."
"But…there are only eight of you," Elissa said after a quick calculation, "where is the other one? Oh, Maker…Mortain, he did it again, didn't he? He slaughtered another of his own kind to prove a sick and twisted point." When the elf said nothing but averted his gaze, Elissa blinked and cleared her throat, "Torin?"
"As I said, it was one of us," was the only answer he would give. "Is Ambrose…is he..do you know-" The hope in the man's eyes was enough to break Elissa's heart, and she thought back to the crimson droplets that had fallen from her friend's armor, splashing against the stone floor of the dungeon as he swung his sword with one hand, the other pressed tight to a wound in his abdomen.
"He-he took a blow," she said gently and Torin flinched as if he's been struck. "But the last I remember, he was still breathing, still fighting," she added hurriedly, unwilling to draw the man into despair when she knew so little of where everyone stood. Torin smiled faintly, trying to hold onto a shred of hope and light, and nodded. Elissa hesitantly turned back to Shianni and let her features fall into a mask of determination. "What does he mean 'it was one of us?'"
Shianni opened her mouth to reply but was silenced with the sound of creaking hinges. Both women tensed and spun to the door, postures posed to fight against whatever that ominous sound promised. When a slight and terrified elven woman slipped through the threshold, quietly closing the door behind her, Shianni relaxed slightly and Elissa struggled to remember the woman's name.
"Sabine," Shianni breathed in relief as the woman scurried to the pair. Elissa remained an alert, refusing to allow herself to feel any sort of calm in such dubious circumstances. She took in Sabine's appearance and felt her chest constrict in horror and ice white rage. Sickening smears of mottled purple stained her skin, the majority of which in were streaks in the shape of hands and fingers. Elissa unconsciously raised a hand to trace a fading ring of bruises around the woman's wrist and Sabine flinched away, her posture hunched and defeated. Elissa swallowed and placed her hands slowly on her lap, silently indicating that she meant no harm.
"We have to be quick," the frightened woman croaked, her throat working hard against a fresh round of abuse to her throat, the skin about her neck chaffed and swollen.
"Sabine, tell us what's going on," Shianni demanded, voice as gentle as she could make it.
"There isn't time," she said, "he's close, and I know what he had planned…please, you must listen and do not question. There is a way out, but you must hold on and survive just a little longer."
"And if there is, indeed, a miraculous way out why have you yet to take it yourself?" Elissa inquired, "Just look at you! See what he has done to you, how can you not want to escape Mortain? He is a monster."
"I'm not entirely sure he's sane," Sabine said with placid eyes, "he came back from slavery completely at odds with who he once was. He is covered in madness and rage. But this is not my husband, not the man I loved so fiercely that I lay down with the stinking, ale swilling men of your race to free. But that man, that kind, caring, loving man is still there, and I just know that one day he will come back to me and all this pain will be worth it."
Elissa stared open mouth at the woman in disbelief. Her words swam about in the Queen's mind in a teeming, nonsensical mess. After a few failed tries to hold on to decorum and gentleness she eventually snorted and shook her head. "He's not sane? I could say the same of you my lady. The man you claim as a chivalrous figure out of legend is a fairy tale. No man who beats his wife is deserving of such devotion and you are a fool if you think he will turn into a white knight of legend and save you from all this."
"Elissa, stop," Shianni said softly but firmly, placing a hand upon Elissa's wrist. Elissa turned angrily to retort but stopped when she saw her friend gazing at the elven woman with pity and an understanding so deep it was beyond comprehension.
"Sabine, listen to me," Shianni murmured softly, "I understand your hesitation. I do…I never loved my villain, but Andraste knows I have felt fear so deep inside that it festers like dog shit in the streets. You just keep hoping it will end, that one day you will wake up from your bed and it will all have been a dream and the violation just a twisted part of your imagination. But it won't…it never ends until you make it end. It took a year for me to stop being a victim, to stand in triumph over the grave of that asshole of a rapist and spit on his memory. You can too…you don't have to cower in his shadow…it won't stop until you decides it stops. Please…"
"I love him," Sabine whispered and shook her head, eyes rolling with belief built on faith and fantasy. Sabine sighed in defeat but nodded. Elissa watched the exchange in fascination and shame. Alistair had hinted that Shianni had something horrible happen to her before the blight, but he had never expanded on the topic, and Elissa had refused to broach the subject, thinking it would be improper to speak of such a thing. Now, sitting in a dank and dirty unknown room, prisoner of a madman, she wished she had asked, had known just how strong this spitfire of an elven woman had been to come out the other side of such horror whole.
"Now listen," Sabine said once she controlled herself, "Mortain wants to toy with you, to hurt you and make you bleed, but he wants you alive."
"Why?" Elissa interrupted.
"Because you are not his prize," she replied softly, "your husband is. He managed to evade capture and Mortain plans to keep you breathing in hopes of an exchange. So whatever happens, whatever he asks, you must do. Only after he has finished with you will you have a chance. He is planning an ambush of your husband's men in twelve hours time, leaving this place sparsely guarded. That will be the time in which you must flee. I can ensure you meet little resistance, but you must endure until then,"
"Why tell us this?" Shianni asked, "why when you clearly still love him."
"Because with each new crime it takes him further from me and I wish to make the journey back easier," she said simply.
"And with each instance of betrayal you incite my anger further," a cold voice intoned from the doorway and all three women sprang to their feet. Mortain and Simon stood in the threshold, a contingent of elves behind them, barring the way.
"Mortain," Sabine breathed, "please. I was just-"
"Showing yet again how disloyal of a wife you can be," her husband replied with a sneer, stepping calmly into the room. Sabine crossed to him, eyes pleading and mouth open to ready apologies. She was silenced with a palm to the face and went sprawling to the ground, sobs quietly wracking her body. "Simon," Mortain said with a sadistic calm, "please see to my wife. I'll deal with her later."
"Of course," the man replied smoothly, leaning down to roughly pull the crying woman to her feet and hauling her out the door.
"You are beyond madness," Elissa whispered and Mortain smiled coldly, his eyes sparkling.
"Of course you would see it that way, Elissa," he said lightly as he walked towards her, "being the pampered spoiled daughter of shem nobility you would have no comprehension of what I am trying to accomplish…such is the downfall of privilege."
"Trying to accomplish? You think you are visionary, a messiah to your people," Elissa hissed, "but all you are is a tyrant trying to seek bloody revenge against oppressors who are already dead."
"You think because the Hero of Ferelden slaughtered the men who sold me into bondage that my oppressors are dead?" Mortain laughed loudly, "my dear woman, they are but the first of such a line. Humans have been keeping my below pressed below their boot heels for centuries and I am here to see them freed from royally sanctioned slavery. Starting with the death of your dimwitted husband."
"And what happens then, Mortain?" Shianni demanded angrily, "what happens when you kill the king and incite the anger of every noble house in Ferelden? What happens when you bring a fucking war to our doorstep and all our people lie clapped in chains or dead in Maker damned streets?"
"I've had just about enough of your tirades, Shianni," Mortain growled capturing her jaw in his fingers and pushing harshly. To her credit Shianni didn't so much as squeak in pain, but bore it with steel and strength. Elissa growled a warning before barreling into the man and pushing him away from her friend. The elves that had accompanied Mortain rushed towards them, but he silenced them with a chuckle and raised hand.
"You will not touch her," she panted as she pushed Shianni behind her protectively.
"Fortunate indeed, as she is not the one I want to touch," he replied, still laughing. Turning to face his followers he waved his hands towards the forgotten elven guard and said, "String them up."
Elissa made a sound of protest but Shianni silenced her with a fierce jab to her ribs. They watched helplessly as the men were dragged to them feet and bound with rope to the butcher's hooks that hung from the rafters. The most heartbreaking to watch was Torin, who looked at them with sad eyes as his arms were wrenched above his head. Elissa could not help but think of Ambrose, wondering if he was alive, and if so would she have to explain how she watched his lover die before her eyes?
Once all the former guard were strung up Elissa could not help but count their numbers and once again puzzle over the missing member.
"I assume you have already murdered the other," she accused coldly, "tell me, Mortain, how can you be avenging your people when you take such delight in spilling their blood."
"I have done no such thing," he replied, "these are all traitors to our race. And before you start throwing accusations of murder at me, Elissa, perhaps you should use all those powers of royal observe that the Maker blessed you with."
Elissa furrowed her brow in confusion but glanced around, trying to puzzle out exactly what he was referring to. It took three sweeps of the room before gut twisting recognition struck her. One of the elves that stood near the strung up guard smirked at her an insolent sort of grin and a memory teased at her mind.
A familiar face grinning at her from the shadows.
"You!" she gasped, pointing at the man, "you're the last guardsman!"
"Have I ever thanked you for giving me such a unique opportunity to launch my war?" Mortain inquired mockingly coming up to stand behind her. Elissa was too stunned by the revelation to notice and she continued to stare dumbfounded at the traitor who stood before her. "Such a simple thing, really," Mortain continued lazily, "to infiltrate your precious pet project of elven justice. After that it was merely a matter of waiting until your temper snapped the leash and you revealed yourself for the petty oppressor you truly are. After your stifling decrees it was all too easy to convince my men to rise up and get themselves locked away in your dungeons. They sacrificed comfort for the cause and all the while my spy was able to smuggle them weapons and lock picks, arming them for the moment in which the numbers were in our favor. Really, Elissa, this is all your doing and I couldn't have asked for a better ally."
"I am not your ally," she said shuddering in revulsion, "I am your queen and you will address me as such."
"Oh, I don't think you're in the best of places to be making demands, Elissa," he said maliciously as he ran a hand across her waist. Elissa gasped and spun away from him, backing into Shianni who protectively wrapped her arms about her shoulders.
"You're vile," she hissed, hands wiping at where he had touched her.
"Is it vile to seek retribution?" Mortain pondered, stalking towards her. "For two years I sweated and toiled while my wife spread her legs for the dredges of your race to buy my freedom. She debased herself and I can barely look upon her with anything but loathing and disgust. Do you think I like hurting her? She must be punished!"
"Of course you like it," Elissa spat back, "any other justification is a lie. You have no power, Mortain, nothing real, so you create it for yourself in your wife's enslavement!"
"She must be punished," Mortain replied harshly, "as must you, your whole race, and your doting bastard of a husband. He will come for you, of that I have no doubt…and I think a fitting punishment is to return you to his arms as used up and vile as my wife was to me."
"Try it and I will castrate you," she growled, hands curling into claws.
"I thought that would be your answer," he said with a smile, "Boys?"
A ragged scream filled the room and Elissa turned to find one of the strung up guardsmen writhing in his bonds, a dagger thrust through his abdomen. She turned back in horror and found Mortain smiling down at her with glee.
"For every protest or action of defiance they will bear your punishment. Now is your chance to act a Queen, Elissa, and save your people from certain death."
Elissa closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Time slowed to a crawl as she thought on every option open to her. Alistair would come for her…he would. She had to believe in such a thing, and Sabine's warning echoed through her mind. Whatever he asks of you, you must do. She just had to survive until she could escape, hopefully fleeing in time to warn her husband of what awaited. And though it tore at her heart to admit it, Mortain was right. She was the Queen, and her people came first.
"Very well," she whispered, head hung in shame and sorrow. Mortain chuckled darkly and Shianni cried out in protest.
"Elissa, no!" her friend screamed, pushing her way in front of the Queen, eyes blazing as she stared down the villain before them. "If you so much as touch her, I swear I'll-"
Mortain's hands struck out lighting fast, gripping her head, and twisted deftly, snapping Shianni's neck with a deafening and world-ending crack. Elissa screamed, the sound clawing it's way u from her heart and tearing from her throat in anguish. She fell to her knees as Shianni crumpled to the ground and stared up sightlessly at the ceiling, the familiar fire completely gone from her gaze. Tears coursed fast and furious from Elissa's eyes as she scrambled to her fallen friend, hands shaking her still warm body as the Queen urged her to wake up.
"Finally, blessed silence," Mortain said with a happy sigh before he knelt and tore at the laces to Elissa's stays, ripping the fabric with a sickening sound. She gasped in reply and scrambled away from him, sight blinded by tears. He was relentless and followed her, ripping at her clothes until her bodice lay in tatters and her skirts were hiked to her knees. Her mind groped for all the lessons Ambrose had taught her and she brought her palm up to his face, angling to smash his nasal bone into his brain. Mortain turned at the last second and she ended up smacking him forcibly in the temple, causing him to loosen his hold. Elissa took advantage and spun on the floor, using her arms to pull away from him. Distantly she heard the slap of flesh upon flesh and ragged moans surrounding her, a reminder that her fellow prisoners survival relied on her compliance. One glance at Shianni's corpse had her suddenly not caring and she refused to give herself to the man who had ended the life of one of the strongest women she had ever had the privilege of knowing.
Mortain growled above her and pinned her to the ground, harshly spreading her legs with his knees. He held her in place with a fierce hand upon her neck as he fumbled at the laces of her corset and she shrieked in defiance. Pushing her hips back in with a sudden thrust she bucked him off her and scrambled to her feet, eyes focused on the door across the room. If she could just reach it she could…
Her thoughts were cut off as she was slammed against a wall with enough force to have her seeing stars. Mortain's face, twisted with rage, swam before her as he slammed her once more against the hard stone.
"You stupid, Bitch," he growled, "can't you see you've already lost? I will have you, and then I shall give you to my men, until you are so used up that no one will ever want you again, and then I shall kill your tyrant of a husband and my people will rise up and slaughter every last power abusing shem. Not resting until we are truly free."
Elissa spat in his face and struggled against his hands, but it was useless. He was far stronger than her and all she managed to do was incite his rage further. The sounds of fighting and torture grew louder around her, shouts of alarm and confusion swimming to the surface. Something was out of place in the cacophony, but Elissa was too focused on the trauma at hand to tease it out. Mortain shoved a knee between her thighs, seeking to spread her legs but was suddenly and abruptly drawn up short. Elissa felt something warm and wet spray her chest and she froze in a panic. Time ground to a halt as Mortain looked at her with disbelieving eyes before trailing down to his chest, Elissa's gaze following it. Two inches of steel stuck out from his flesh, a faint trail of blood leaking a trail down his shirt. Mortain opened his mouth and stared hard at her, eyes wide with defeat.
"No," he gasped before the weapon was yanked from his body and he crumpled to the ground, revealing a grim and blood splattered Alistair standing behind him in bitter victory.
"Elissa," he breathed, dropping his sword to the ground. She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. The sound of a triumphant yell broke her reverie and she glanced around to find the room swarming with royal soldiers, each standing victoriously over a dead elven corpse. Others were unchaining the surviving elven guardsmen, gingerly lowering them to the ground. Elissa found it in her to feel a flickering of relief when she saw that Torin was among them. Were her gaze once again landed on Shianni, broken and forgotten on the cold floor, her knees buckled and she felt herself fall to the ground, only to be caught in strong arms that hoisted her skyward, cradling her against a solid a familiar chest. She clung to Alistair and sobbed, each cry a eulogy for the woman who had tried to save her from a violation she herself had known all too well.
"Shhhh…" Alistair murmured in her ear, "I'm here. I have you."
"How?" she asked through gasping pants, gazing up at him through tear blurred eyes.
"I can answer that, my fair Queen," an unfamiliar and accented voice replied from behind her husband. She glanced over Alistair's shoulder at found herself staring at a tan, and very handsome blonde elf with a scrolling black tattoo marking his cheek. "My name is Zevran, your Majesty, assassin, tracker, and lover extraordinaire. Our dead friend here may be quite the master mind, but his followers are dismal at hiding their tracks, no? I'm only sorry it took so long for our daring and manly rescue."
Elissa choked and buried her face against her husband's chest, still too grieved to give a reply.
"Give it a rest, Zevran," Alistair said softly, "this is not the time."
"You are right, my friend," he said apologetically, "but I thought you should know your men found something rather strange indeed. A corpse, matching the description of Mortain's friend Simon was found with his throat cut not ten paces from the entrance to this accursed place…Normally I would take all the credit for such a gloriously gory thing, yes? But as I was with you I alas cannot claim such a feat…and none of your men have any idea who did the dead as well. Strange, no?"
Alistair said nothing but gripped Elissa closer and turned to survey the carnage that scattered about the room. Zevran said nothing but followed his gaze, giving the King time to find his thoughts. After staring hard at Shianni's corpse for the space of a few heart beats Alistair finally brought himself to answer. "I don't think it matters much right now, Zev," he murmured softly, "the man is dead and it is small consolation."
Elissa stared numbly at her fallen friend and rested her head wearily against her husband's chest.
"Alistair," she pleaded softly, "take me home."
A/N: Okay justification/explanations. First up, this chapter:
Before I get any rotten fruit thrown at me for Sabine's reaction let me explain…my very best friend in the world spent five years trapped in an abusive marriage. Because of this I have done a lot of research into what is known as the "victim cycle." One of the reasons assault victims stay with their abusers is because they convince themselves that these assholes really love them deep down and they will eventually stop hurting them. It makes no logical sense to those of us who have never experienced such horror, but it is none the less true. It is not the only reason why victims stay with their attackers, it wasn't even my friend's reason, but it is one of the many. So Elissa's reaction, in my mind, fits with her character, and I would like o make it PERFECTLY CLEAR that I am not victim shaming in anyway. I believe I am staying true to Sabine's character and where she is in the process.
Next up: The previous chapter:
Okay, so I had a review or two take issue with the whole dungeon thing (let me be clear, this is no way references you Katdancer2, beta goddess extraordinaire). This is my reasoning: Back in the day almost every castle had a dungeon (point in fact, you fight your way through Howe's dungeon in the game.) They were basically the equivalent of today's jails, where prisoners were housed for questioning before a trial (not in all cases, but in a lot). Once they were sentenced, they were then transferred to a different location, in the case Fort Drakon, to serve out their sentence (much like today's prisons). And as stated in the previous chapter, none of the elves had received a trial yet. Hence my logic.