Warnings for this chapter: brief mentions of sexual assault, excessive violence, and involuntary urination.
Elspeth stood silent and unresisting as Loghain's guards roughly stripped away her armor. They grew bolder and bolder as each piece of heavy plate fell away without protest, shoving her first one way, then another, and crowing at their own little victories over the mighty Grey Warden. She stumbled once or twice and righted herself, but otherwise remained motionless, staring impassively into the middle distance.
When she stood, shivering slightly, in only her plain linen undertunic and trousers, a skinny guardsman with straw-colored hair and bad teeth strutted in a slow circle around her, puffing out his narrow chest like a scruffy little barnyard rooster, then reached out and swiftly yanked her trousers down to her ankles.
Encouraged by her continued lack of response and by the hoots and wolf-whistles of his fellows, he shoved a grubby hand up her tunic, "Can't be too careful with these Grey Wardens," he smirked, squeezing her breast roughly. "You never know where they might be…" he leered, "hiding something." He swept the tunic over her head with a flourish, to the cheers of the other guards, then paused, his eye caught by a glint of bright metal. "What's this, now?" He muttered, shoving Elspeth's hair back behind her ear and tapping his fingernail against the jeweled golden hoop.
"Don't."
The room fell momentarily silent in surprise at the first word the Grey Warden had uttered since surrendering her sword, then her tormenter leaned close, hooking a finger through the earring. "What did you say?" he growled, his breath hot and sour in her face.
"Don't. Touch. That," Elspeth said, her voice low and even.
"You hear that, lads?" the skinny guardsman sneered. "Don't touch Her Highness's things, if you please!" He yanked sharply on the golden hoop, tearing it free of her earlobe and sending a thin, hot trickle of blood down the side of her neck. He turned back to Elspeth with a snarl, "Now you listen to-"
But whatever she was supposed to listen to exploded against the back of his throat, accompanied by her fist and several of his own discolored teeth.
When Cauthrien came into the room some time later to find out why it was taking so long to process the prisoner, she found the Warden's battered, half naked body sprawled on the floor, surrounded by the still forms of seven guards. The eighth guard stood backed into a corner, his trembling sword still raised as though to ward off an attack.
Cauthrien knelt over the younger woman. The Warden was still breathing. The same could not be said of three of the guards on the floor around her. The girl's right hand was still balled into a fist. Curious, Cauthrien pried open her fingers and found a bloodied golden earring set with a blue gemstone. She held the earring out to the one guard still standing. He eyed the bauble as though it might bite.
"Put this with the prisoner's personal belongings," she ordered tersely. "I will know if it… 'gets lost' along the way. Then take her to her cell. I will send for the healers, to do…" she glanced around at the carnage surrounding her, and sighed, "... what they can."
The guard took the earring gingerly from her, and hurried off to do as he was told. His awkward, shuffling walk suggested that he had wet his splintmail.