Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly create. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I mostly use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront!

When reading this tale, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (my Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale.

A/N: More from the side of lovely Lake Calenhad.

Thanks to my readers, followers and reviewers and to my ladies beta artemiskat and Snarkoleptic. Special shout out to Snark, the title was a bit of her brilliance I snatched rogue-style for my own! :)

Happy Reading!

-Frayed One

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Broken Princess

When Elissa surfaced from the bowels of the tower, the quiet anger she exuded gave the impression of that moment of calm one finds at the eye of a hurricane. No one spoke. Not a templar, not a mage, and none of her companions. Those who had waited up above simply fell in line at the sight of the battered body cradled in Nathaniel's arms and the look of no-longer-concealed rage burning behind Elissa's eyes. She stormed through the stone halls like a force of nature, the slamming of heavy doors against the walls as she shoved them open and the clip of her heels against the floor the only sounds cutting into the fury that trailed behind her, daring anyone to stand in her way.

Kester looked harried when he saw them, and Anders worried for a moment that he might just paddle away and leave them there with no other option than to split in half and make two trips back across the lake. Thankfully something in her expression either soothed or terrified him to the extent that he waited for her to help Nathaniel in, dragging Anders in behind her and leaving the others to set off with Zevran in the second craft.

Anders flicked his gaze between the nightmare at his back and the future in front of him, a future embodied by the woman who was now shaking so hard that it rattled the dagger strapped at her thigh into the wooden bow at her side. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, and she turned for a moment, eyes refocusing themselves from a place far beyond his reach. She smiled, but there was no warmth in it, and so he let go and turned back to watch Kinloch Hold disappear in the gathering fog.

"Don't worry about docking us, Kester. I don't want to strain Nathaniel any more than I already have. Just push up on land and we'll press on from there." Elissa's voice was as even as she could manage, but the tension was there rumbling beneath the surface, making what was meant to be a request sound more like a command.

The man nodded and did as she asked, pushing his oar down into the sandy bottom of the lake's edge and trying not to appear as anxious as he was to get them out of his boat and on their way.

It was starting to rain as they reached the shore, and Elissa popped herself up over the edge of the prow as soon as she could manage, splashing down into the water and turning to tug the craft as far onto dry land as she could. She nodded to Anders who jumped out, and the two of them provided as much stability as possible when Nathaniel stood to step out of the boat with Jowan. The injured mage still wasn't moving; even the cold rain against his bare arms did nothing to rouse the most basic of physical responses, which did nothing to settle Elissa's raging mind.

She led the way to the tavern, catching Zevran's eye for long enough that he knew to follow with the remainder of her companions, before ensuring that nothing would hinder Nathaniel's path up to her room. The tavern keep was wise to say nothing as they passed, turning his eyes quickly down to his books and burying himself in whatever notations had kept his interest before they returned.

"Just lie him down and leave me with him." Elissa commanded, holding the door to her quarters open and watching as Nathaniel settled the broken man gently down atop the extra blankets she had requested before they'd left to see to his retrieval.

Nathaniel held her eyes for long enough to assure himself she was at least passably alright, and then disappeared from the room, tugging the door shut softly behind him.

"Ah, what a pleasant stroll down memory lane this must have been, no?" The Assassin's words reached his ears long before Nathaniel saw him, but that was not surprising.

The Archer did not reply; he simply made his way to his own room to attempt to work through the deafening medley of guilt and anger echoing away inside his head. Jowan's circumstances in that cell had been far too similar to situations he himself had seen – and caused – in his checkered past.

There was a knock at his door before he'd even had time to make himself comfortable, and for a moment he considered not answering it. He was really in no mood for flirting, and a part of him was absolutely certain Velanna was waiting on the other side of time worn panes of wood.

"Don't worry, I haven't come to molest you," quipped a small, pert voice from the other side. "Well… not unless you'd like me to."

Nathaniel smiled in spite of his temper and opened the door, arching an eyebrow at Sigrun as she strode past, shoving a mug of ale into his open hand.

"You looked like you could use a drink and someone to talk to." She noted, perching on the edge of his bed and patting the spot beside her with a wink. "Now, are you going to make this easy or am I going to have to pry it out of you with alcohol and the magic of dwarven massage?"

"Dwarven massage?" Nathaniel nearly spat out the mouthful of ale he'd taken.

"It involves large stones… which now that I think about it sounds far more like torture than coercion…" She watched him flinch at the use of that word, lending truth to what she had already feared without knowing. "And now we're getting to the root of it…"

"Why did I have to make nice with the one dwarf who doesn't spend her time lazing about in a drunken stupor?" he huffed, settling himself against the headboard where he could pass his glance easily between the window and the woman in front of him should he decide eye contact was something he desired.

"You need to talk, Nathaniel. I don't know what about, exactly, but the look on your face when we were leaving the tower and your reaction to my cleverly planted vocabulary tells me it's not good."

When he offered no response, she sighed and sat up straight to make her point. "Shoving this stuff away in some closet and pretending it isn't thrashing around in there trying to get out isn't any better for you than it is for her, you know." The slight shift of his eyes told her that no name need be mentioned. "You need to get it out and make your peace with it before she asks for the details. If it's as bad as you're making it out to be, you know she's going to."

"Are you certain you want to be my sounding board for this, Sigrun?" He turned to her finally, knocking back the last of his ale in one long pull and settling the empty mug on the bedside table. "I doubt you'll want to be in the same room with me once we're done."

"Oh, I don't know… you said some pretty awful things back at the Peak and I still looked you in the eye in the morning just fine." The laughter was there, but the look in her eyes gave him every confidence that no matter what he said, she had the strength to take it.

"This isn't like that. I wasn't in my right mind back in that room… But when I committed these sins…" he trailed off, eyes grown distant and haunted. "I'd like to say I was a different man then, but the truth of it is, I was as much myself as I have ever been. Perhaps that's the worst of it all."

He stood up to pace then, unable to manage his nerves against the stillness as the memories of the things he had done crashed down upon him one after another.

"My time in the Free Marches was not all spent squiring for my father's... business contacts. It started that way, but once it became clear that I was… suited for things that required talents of a very specific nature… I was pulled out of that position and set to work as the man's personal assassin. Thinking back on it, even the idea that I would have been asked to act as such should have been a clear sign of my father's character, but all I could think of was keeping him happy and getting back to the life I wanted with Elissa."

"That's it? That's your deep, dark secret? You were an assassin!" Sigrun dissolved into a fit of giggles now that the reason for his torment had come fully to light.

"The killing was the least of it. At the flick of a nobleman's wrist I have done to others what those templars did to Jowan and more. And I'll thank you not to make light of it!" Nathaniel turned back to her in a fit of temper; unable to believe she could find anything he'd just said to be amusing.

Sigrun took in a couple of deep breaths, in an attempt to calm her humor and refocus now that he'd decided to come clean with the real truth of it all. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel. I'm not making light of it, I just… I mean you do realize that Zevran is an assassin? One who tried to kill Elissa himself – and she holds none of that against him. I've spent a great deal of time talking to him, and I assure you he's done his time as a torturer. How can you think that she would hold it against you when she's done nothing but forgive the rest of us?"

"Maybe before she wouldn't have had an issue with it, but you weren't down there in that cell… You didn't see her face when she saw what those templars had done to Jowan." He covered his face with his hands for a minute, and then started again. "I don't know that she can forgive this once she knows. I think seeing goes beyond dealing with an abstract."

"I think, until you speak of it, you should stop punishing yourself for things you can no more change than I can alter the stars in the sky." Sigrun was smiling when he looked at her, and she could see that he didn't think himself worthy of her easy forgiveness. "Are we past the soul searching and onto the steamy bits yet?"

He tossed a pillow at her, which she easily dodged from where she now lay back against his bed, face easing back into the usual bit of cheek she gave whenever they were together.

She took the silence as her cue to leave, smiling at the low chuckle she heard as the door closed, hoping that as forced as it had sounded she'd managed to do some amount of good before leaving him to his troubles.

It was only after the door closed behind her that Elissa could breathe.

She walked over to the armor and weapon stands, nimble fingers going through the motions of removing each piece from her body and securing them in their respective spots. She tugged on the blue tunic she'd left hanging on the back of the vanity chair, tucking it haphazardly into her pants and moving over to retrieve a nearby basin. She'd told the tavern keep she expected to be back by midday, and asked that he heat some water and leave it waiting for her return. Having filled the basin with the warm water she grabbed up a clean cloth and turned back toward the bed. It was then that she caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror.

Even without the blood stained armor, you still look like a killer, she thought, sitting the basin down long enough to pull out the pins and lock picks that secured her hair and tug her curls free of the braids that held them. It did little to soften her world-weary features, though by now she doubted anything could.

Knowing she'd done everything she could to make herself less threatening, Elissa made her way over to the fragile man lying on her bed and settled herself at his side. At first glance the emaciation was overwhelming. Jowan had never been in possession of the type of musculature that would be what she jokingly told Anders could make him a swordsman, but neither had she been able to read the curves and angles of every bone through the skin as she could now.

She took in a deep, slow breath, willing her temper to calm as she dipped the cloth in the warm water and reached over to draw it as gently as she could down the inside of his forearm and across his wrist. The skin there was raw and even when healed would leave a permanent scar as it had gone untreated for far too long to ever be restored without a blemish. She worked diligently to remove the bits of… rope; she thought… that had embedded themselves into the skin. The longer she worked, the angrier she got, and the less gentle her hands became until Jowan flinched back from her touch and moaned softly. She dropped her hands down in horror.

"I'm sorry…. I-I can't be the one to do this." Elissa whispered, more to herself than anyone else as she settled the basin and cloth on the bedside table. "I'll only do more damage than I've already done."

She was out the door after that, popping her head out into the bar where the others had settled just long enough to catch Zevran's attention and bring him up the stairs to her side.

"Stand guard outside this door. No one goes in without my permission and if you hear so much as a whisper from inside that doesn't belong to Jowan…"

"Then I shall send said whisper to its grave." Zevran replied, not even flinching when her quick nod confirmed what she was asking him to do.

"If he stirs, come and find me." She squeezed his arm once as he disappeared down the hall toward her room and then pushed out the main door and into the rain.

That rain had progressed from a gentle mist into a steady downpour in the time Elissa had taken to settle Jowan into her room, but she didn't care. She walked briefly into the cover provided in the nearby outbuildings, recalling her cloak and dagger meetings with the Mage Collective during the Blight. Back then she'd only done as they asked because she desperately needed the coin to keep them all armed and armored, and even then she only did the things she could easily work in among the tasks she'd already assigned them to.

She should have done more; she knew that now. She should have done everything they had for her and then asked for more. Instead she'd collected a few scrolls and run some slight interference and gone on her merry way leaving people like Anders to…

Anders… Not so very long ago he had been Jowan and there had been no well-meaning templar keeping watch over him in the darkness at her request. There had been no Hero of Ferelden coming to his rescue. The thought of him down there, going through that, not just once but Maker only knew how many times before his final escape pushed her well beyond her ability to manage her temper.

She wanted to punch something, to kick it, to destroy, and so she grabbed the first thing she saw. The ale barrel was long empty and easy to heft as she charged her way through the archway and out into the rain, throwing the barrel as hard as she could at the stony hill behind the tavern and enjoying the sight of it busting into pieces. But it wasn't enough. She picked up the boards, bashing them into the ground until they broke into nothing more than splinters and then stomping them down into the quickly forming mud beneath her boots. When there was nothing more to break she screamed.

"Whatever the barrel did, I'm sure it's sorry."

Elissa spun to find Anders standing there in the cover of the outbuildings and watching her with a cautious eye. She was drenched, long curls dripping onto her clothing as she panted away from exertion and rage. She pushed her hair back from her face, and tried to come up with something she could say to make him understand she wasn't losing control and it was safe to approach should he choose to.

"Yes, well it should be." She took in a deep breath, pacing down closer to the lake's edge, relieved when he came to a stop beside her instead of turning to go back inside. "I'm not going mental again; I'm just angry. Very, very angry."

"I can see that." His reply was cryptic, and out of the corner of her eye Elissa could see he was watching her intently. "I need you to explain why. Why are you so angry? He's one man, one man who is actually guilty of the crimes that put him there in the first place. If I add that to the knowledge I now have telling me that you have maintained a close friendship with not one but two templars for any number of years… I'm sorry, Elissa. I can't make this work in my head."

"Alistair never wanted to be a templar." She looked at her hands as she spoke; fidgeting with her fingers and prying loose the splinters of wood that had lodged themselves into the flesh there during her tantrum. "Eamon sent him there after he married Isolde because the bitch considered him to be an inconvenience, as much as anyone being hidden away in a stable like livestock can be an inconvenience."

"I-I… I didn't know that." He hadn't. The idea that anyone outside of the mage community would be forced into a life they didn't want had never occurred to Anders, and it shook him a little that The King himself had traveled a much harsher path than he'd imagined to sit upon his throne.

"Few people do. It isn't something that Alistair speaks of often. He just glosses over it with humor and presses on. You are remarkably similar to him in that way." The side of her mouth curved up slightly as she glanced at him, but it was gone just as fast as it had come. "And Cullen. We didn't start out as friends. Did you know him before Uldred's rebellion?"

"Yes. Cullen was one of the good ones…"

"Do you know what happened to him?" the look on his face told her that he did not, and so she turned her eyes back to the tower and remembered. "When we found him he was being held in some sort of magical prison. I have no idea how long he'd been there, but he was close to madness. Uldred had sent any number of demons to tempt him, and the blood mages had been poking away in his brain… trying to… He didn't even believe I was real at first. I had to convince him I wasn't a demon, and even then he didn't trust me. He refused to believe that anyone left in the tower other than him was safe. He wanted me to kill them all and he was furious when I refused."

"The first letters I got from him were understandably tense. He'd basically been ordered to write a letter of gratitude to a woman to whom he was not at all grateful, and my initial responses did nothing to soften him, I'm sure. But eventually, as we kept up with the writing, I realized he'd been broken just like I had, and he was fighting with everything he had not to lose himself to that darkness. We sort of… healed… something in one another, I suppose. That's the only way I can explain it." She waited for Anders to respond in some way, but still he said nothing. "I didn't ask Cullen to look after Jowan. He offered. He'd heard rumors about what was happening to him… and he knew that I'd kept him from execution after Redcliffe…"

"How long did you know before…"

"Too long." Elissa tore her eyes away from him then, but not before he'd seen what he needed to see. "There are any number of excuses I can make. Some of them are even logical. But they're only excuses and they change nothing." She was pacing now, feet sloshing through the muck as the downpour transitioned to torrent around them. "I did this, Anders. I sent him back to that place. This… all of this is my fault."

"Jowan is not your fault, Elissa." Anders insisted, reaching over to try and still her but she dodged his touch and slipped away. "He made his own choices and those choices led him to this place…"

"I led him to this place, Anders!" she stopped in front of him then, and he could see that not all of the moisture on her face had come from the rain that had now managed to soak them both to the bone. "I did this. This is my fault… you are…"

"Me?" His eyes went wide with the realization that it wasn't Jowan pulling this out of her, it was him.

"If I hadn't sent him back there, maybe things wouldn't have been so hard on you… maybe…" She couldn't stop her mind from going there, from lingering on the idea that it could have been Anders lying back in her room – nothing more than a specter of the man he should have been. "How can you stand to be near me? Look at what I do – at who I am. I destroy everything I touch."

"You didn't destroy me… you…" He tried to interrupt but she couldn't even hear him, she was lost in her own mind again.

"I can't stop thinking that it was you… it was you in there before… it was…" she dropped down into the mud, unable to manage what it took even to pace it off anymore. "And when I think about that it makes me want to go back in there and slaughter them all. Every last one of them…" She looked up at him then, and he saw something flash there in her eyes he'd never seen before. Something sliding into place. "I swear to you, not just for today but for a lifetime, if they come for you again I will end them. So long as I draw breath, the Chantry will never have you again."

He dropped down beside her then, reaching tentative hands up to cup her face and thanking the Maker when she didn't flinch away from the intimacy of the gesture.

"You didn't destroy me, Elissa. You saved me; more times than I can count, and you didn't even know it… I didn't even know you…" She grumbled in her chest, a pained sound that told him she didn't believe him. "But now I do, and I see who you are beyond this face you show the world, beyond the secrets you carry inside you… You say that Cullen healed something inside of you… maybe I can heal what he didn't. You carry the burdens of the world as though they are your own, and it is breaking you! I can't bear to watch it any longer – no more than you can bear the thought of what I suffered in that tower." Her eyes locked onto his again, and he shivered at the intensity and then pressed on. "I don't know how to do this. I-I…"

"I don't either." Elissa admitted, reaching up to take his face in her own hands and press her forehead against his. "Though I would imagine not dying of pneumonia would be a good place to start."

She smiled then, the tip of her nose brushing against his for a moment before the sound of her soft laughter reached him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into the sopping wet cloth covering his shoulder and allowing herself to believe what he had to say. It was a brief moment of respite before her mind went back to what awaited her back inside the tavern.

"I can't do this. He's going to wake up when it starts to hurt and see me there and…" She pulled back then, pushing up to stand and fretting with her hair. "I know you weren't friends…"

"You're right, but we are." Anders cleared his throat and stood beside her. "So, if what you're asking for is someone to come along so you don't have to face this alone, you only ever had to say the words."

He held out his hand and waited for her to take it, knowing he was ready to step forward and return the support she had so freely given him when he faced down his own fears earlier in the day.