121: Quality Time in Fort Drakon

All in all, the arrest and processing went just about as well as both of them expected... a sham investigation, followed by a swift march to Fort Drakon, the removal of most clothing (although, given that no less than seven hidden knives and assorted thieving tools dropped out of Fin's clothing as they did so, it may have been warranted), and a push into a mutual cell.

Percy leaned against the bars, trying to get a bearing of their situation. At the least, the others would have gotten away with the rescued prisoners, including three that could be of use at the Landsmeet.

Including his brother.

Maker, he wasn't sure how to process that. Fergus was alive, when Percival had been certain, for months, that he was the last living Cousland.

It was something of a relief, actually. Once Fergus had recovered, he would be able to take over Highever as teyrn. Percival certainly had no intention of returning to that castle full of ghosts.

Fergus. Maker.

But, no. It didn't bear thinking about at the moment. The Landsmeet loomed near, and two of the three operative Wardens were imprisoned. Obviously, Loghain was going to make absolutely certain that they stayed here, but, in Percy's mind, that was out of the question. They needed the win at the Landsmeet. Capable as he was, Garott wouldn't be able to wield the influence among Ferelden nobility that they needed to win.

That meant either waiting for outside rescue (which, knowing their companions, he had little doubt would be coming) or expediting matters with an attempt of their own.

Except that Finian didn't really seem up for any daring feats of trickery at the moment. Percy turned to watch the elf, who had spent the last half hour since being imprisoned pacing restlessly. It was probably the most disconcerting aspect of this whole ordeal: Finian Tabris was visibly upset about something, and making no attempt to smile or shrug it off.

Well, Percy had been waiting for the chance to have a good sit-down with Fin, and the Maker had certainly provided one. Percival was beginning to think that the Maker had a very twisted sense of humor.

"Fin."

The elf responded with a distracted "Hm?" and continued pacing.

Percy sighed and stepped forward to place a hand on Fin's shoulder. Rather than stilling, Fin jumped and spun wide eyes full of barely suppressed panic. This was no bout of mere nerves.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, sorry." Finian pulled away, flashing one of his fake smiles. "It's nothing."

"Fin."

"Just a little restless, you know how it is. Haven't jumped on enough dragons lately."

"Fin."

Finian sighed and looked away. "Sorry. I don't do well with cages."

"Small surprise, after what happened at the Alienage."

Fin shook his head and moved to the back wall of the cell. "It's more than that," he breathed, sliding down the wall to sit with his head resting on his knees. "I've been imprisoned before. It's... not a good memory."

Percy couldn't really say he knew what being imprisoned felt like, but having one's self-control slip without one's volition? That, he knew. He leaned back against the bars, peering at Fin across the cell."I suspect it says something that you gave yourself up despite that, then."

Fin croaked a laugh and lifted his head. "Tell me, was this a monumentally stupid idea?"

"What, surrendering?" A nod. "Not as much as you'd think. I've fought Ser Cauthrien before. We likely would have been subdued regardless."

That drew a real chuckle out of him, at least. "My bardic senses are telling me there's a story here. You've fought her?"

"Dueled her, actually. She would certainly have loved to put me in my place today, I'm sure." He let his head fall back against the bars in memory. "It was during Cailan's wedding, when all the noble households were in Denerim in force, and she was this shiny new thing Loghain had following him around. She was one of the fiercest, strongest women I'd ever seen, and so, of course, I made attempts to woo her. She was insulted to the point of kicking me into the nearest trough. When I suggested a duel in an attempt to impress her, she only accepted reluctantly and then went on to absolutely trounce me. My brother swore it was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen."

"Percival Cousland, the great charmer."

"I enjoyed a challenge." He shook his head with a smile. "That one simply proved a bit above my abilities."

They fell into companionable quiet, with Fin's fingers tapping against his knee as the only indication of his continuing restlessness.

"Last time," the elf said quietly after a while,"the cell was smaller. And darker. This is a little better."

"I assume it helps that there's a half-naked man in here with you."

Finian laughed, and that was enough for Percy to shove down any lingering discomfort.

"What happened," Percival ventured, "if you don't mind my asking?"

Fin's smile was self-depreciating, but honest. "I got caught."

"You? And you didn't manage to talk your way out of it?"

"Well, it was kind of hard to convince people I hadn't been sneaking in and sleeping with the son of the house when the guards turned me out of the bed themselves. I was still struggling to come up with a believable excuse when they dragged me, plumb naked, to the family dungeon."

"A family dun... this was a noble family?" A memory of a scandal a few years back struck him. "You mean Aiden Roselund? You were the elf that got him sent to Orlais?"

Fin shrugged. "I didn't send him anywhere. What with being shoved into the family dungeon."

"Maker, how did you get out?"

"After a couple days, my Alienage hahren intervened and sprang me through good old-fashioned bribery." His eyes went distant and sad. "And now he's in the hands of Tevinter slavers."

"Hey, you can't do anything about that now."

"I know." Fin sighed. "It was all my own fault, anyway. You know how it is, with elves and nobles."

Percy felt something cold go through him. "No," he said firmly. "That was entirely Bann Roselund being an ass. Being noble is no excuse for treating good people any differently merely because of a difference of race." More quietly, he added, "No matter how well-intentioned such things might be."

Fin's smiled up at him. "Is that an apology?"

"It's been months. What do you think?"

Fin's head hit the back wall as he chuckled. "Well, if it helps, I should apologize too. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Percy shrugged. "I'd be something of a hypocrite if I faulted you for flirting, wouldn't I?"

"If you want, we could start over. Wipe the slate clean."

"You know that doesn't really work, right?" Percy gave the elf his best arched brow, and Fin grinned in return. "Besides, it is the mistakes and tragedies of the past which shape us. Erasing them is as good as moving backward, when we should always be looking ahead."

"Look at you, all wise. When did that happen?"

"Personally, I blame Marnan."

They settled into silence again, which meant that, a few minutes later, they both heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Percy looked out through the bars and saw a set of six guards emerging over the staircase, flanking a bony hawk of a man wearing a blood-stained apron. He could immediately guess what this man was here for.

This wasn't good.

Percival pointedly placed himself on the other side of the door, glaring defiantly at the small man as he stopped on the opposite side of the bars.

"Usually, we give our guests time to settle in," the interrogator said. "But the regent is so very eager to learn what you know... we all thought it a grand idea to begin as soon as possible."

Percival stayed silent, and Finian made no noise behind him.

"Now, this will be simple. We can do this the easy way, which involves you telling me the locations of your co-conspirators and the confession of your crimes against the crown. Or we can do this the longer, more painful way, in which you tell me the same thing through a newly-cleaved tongue. What do you say?"

"You'll get no such thing regardless," Percy snapped.

The interrogator sighed. "They never choose the easy way." He motioned to his guards, and two opened the door, while two more came in to secure Percival. The noble tensed and flexed, intending to make this difficult for them.

"No." The guards about to manhandle him paused. "The elf."

Percival turned watched them scoop Finian up from his spot on the floor, and the noble was alarmed to see that the elf had gone completely limp, his expression distant.

The interrogator gave Percy a slick, poisonous smile. "They say this one likes to talk. Let us see just how silver his tongue really is."

Percival swallowed his worry, because he could do nothing against six armed guards in his skivvies. He could only watch them drag Finian away, the elf's limp heels dragging on the floor.

And then, just before they rounded the corner, Finian's eyes met his, one of them closing in a slow wink, and a hint of that patented impish smile tugged for the briefest moments at one corner of his mouth.

Percy slumped against the bars, just breathing and daring to offer a prayer to the Maker that the pair of them would get out of this with bodies and minds intact.