Dragon Age 1. The Offer

_So I know Taliesin sounds like he's from Fereldan in the game, but I always thought that was silly. Imagine him with a less sexy version of Zevran's accent, if you will. Chapter two is significantly longer, and mostly done. (rated for my own paranoia)  
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_Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything good_

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Sten led the way down down the back streets of Denerim, Talin keeping pace, with Morrigan and Zevran trailing along a few steps behind. Neither bothered to stop and ask how the qunari knew the way. They were on a mission. The group had gathered in Arl Eamon's Denerim estate to discuss their plans for the landsmeet when a well dressed city elf had come to the door, demanding an audience with the Arl and the Wardens. Zevran had led the young woman to where Alistair and Lyna were in conference with the Arl, and had heard as the servant begged for the Warden's to save her mistress, Anora, from Arl Howe, who had apparently imprisoned the queen in his estate. Lyna, at Eamon's urging, had consented, bringing only Leliana and Talin along with her, despite Alistair and Zevran arguing against such meager backup.

And now, they suffered the consequences of that decision, although the assassin wasn't sure even his presence would have changed the outcome. Leliana and the mabari had returned with the queen, but they had been forced to leave Lyna behind. The rescue party had been ambushed by a contingent of guards, and the Warden had been captured. Or rather, she had surrendered to allow her companions to escape with the queen in disguise. Zevran scowled as he stalked along, his chest tight at the thought of how a Dalish elf might be treated in a human prison. Especially an elf who was labeled a traitor, and who worked against the self-proclaimed 'regent' of the crown.

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Lyna shivered where she lay curled up on the cold stone floor of her cell, her slender arms cradling her rib-cage and her violet eyes closed. Her hair was loose, having long since fallen from the bun she kept it in, and fell around her face in a tangle. She had only been at the prison for minutes before a group of human guards had come in, stripping her roughly of her clothing before administering the first beating.

The Warden winced, pain spearing through her chest as she shifted slightly. _At least_, she thought,_ it is only beatings so far. Things could be much, much worse. And he... they, will come, sooner or later._ After the third beating, they had left the dainty elf in a crumpled heap in the center of the cell, the door slamming shut behind them as the chatted idly with each other as if nothing had happened.

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Sten stopped suddenly, not far from Fort Drakon where the Warden was being held, his vivid purple eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the stairs leading up to the next alley. Something was amiss. Zevran moved to stand next to him, his amber eyes darting around. In a whisper, the qunari said, "You feel it too?"

"Indeed. Something... is not right."

From the stairs above came a mocking, accented voice. "Ah, Zevran. You are a difficult one to find, no?"

Zevran stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he stared up the stairs. "Tell me Taliesin, were you sent, or did you volunteer for the job?"

Behind them, Morrigan leaned on her staff and Talin growled low in his throat. Sten glanced briefly at the assassin at his side, not moving as the former Crow took a half-step forward as he spoke.

The man at the top of the stairs grinned maliciously, absently running his gloved hand across his leather-armored chest. "I volunteered, of course! When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh."

The dark haired man at the top of the stairs smirked, taking a single step down towards the four waiting below, his eyes resting on Zevran. After a long pause, the man called Taliesin lowered his voice to a still very audible conspiratorial whisper.

"You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It is not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

The former Crow went rigid, his amber eyes widening slightly at the offer as his breath caught in his throat. Talin growled again, his head held low and at the ready. Behind him, Sten and Morrigan exchanged a glance, neither quite sure how the elf was going to respond...

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_Cliffhanger! Don't worry, chapter 2 is mostly done already._


	2. Assault

_**Warning**__: for the bits with Lyna. It always seemed odd to me that they just toss you naked in a cell then leave you alone un-harassed to plot your escape. There's nothing graphic, but there __**is **__implied, uh, attempted unpleasantness..._

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Time passed slowly for the Warden as the elf struggled to control her breathing. She was sure they had broken at least one rib, and her left eye was swelling shut. And she was freezing. They had taken her clothes, leaving her in just her small-clothes, with a thin, patchy blanket on the straw pallet that completely failed to keep her warm. The rogue licked her lips, tasting blood, and winced again as pain lanced through her. Suddenly, she stiffened, hearing booted feet approaching her cell. Somehow, she knew that it was not rescue. _Not yet._ She clenched her eyes shut and silently prayed for her friends to hurry.

The door slammed open, and Lyna flinched, her right eye flying open. Two guards strolled in, one of them absently kicking at her while a third pulled the door shut from the outside, a faint smirk on his face. The Warden closed her eyes again, praying to the Creators that it was just another beating. Without words, one of the guards reached down, yanking her hands up over her head and shackling them together with iron cuffs; she gasped as the motion jarred her ribs, her vision going dark briefly as the pain spearing through her, hot and red and leaving her with a stabbing ache in her sides when it began to fade. When she could see again, her breathing ragged, she wished that she had blacked out. While the first guard still held her hands over her head as she lay shivering on the floor, the second guard was... eyeing her, a wicked smirk curling on his cruel lips. He stripped off his gauntlets, his hands moving to the straps holding his armor in place, and the first guard muttered, "Honestly, Rye, I don't know what you see in these knife-ears, but the Captain is expecting us soon, so make it snappy, would you." He pulled a chain from the wall, securing the shackles to it, and moved towards the door, clearly not interested in watching.

Lyna closed her eyes again, her body working on autopilot to manage the pain as her mind focused on finding some way out of this... situation. She jerked against the shackles when she felt a cold hand on her ankle, her right eye flying open at the touch. Drawing on what little strength she had after so many beatings, she kicked out with a hiss, "You will be dead before you see your next sunrise, filthy _shemlen_." The cell door closed with a loud click as the other guard exited, leaving the two alone.

The one called Rye snickered, easily dodging the kick, and caught her leg again, his fingers pressing cruelly into her pale, battered skin. "You'll be dead before I will, knife-ears, Grey Warden or not. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little... _fun_ first." Lyna began to struggle as he leaned over her, his free hand going to the ties of his pants. She clenched her jaw, sweat beading her skin as her battered ribs sent pain through weary system her with every movement.

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Outside, the third guard glanced over as one of his companions left the cell, taking up a position on the other side with an annoyed look on his face. They exchanged a look, shrugging at each other; neither understood what Rye was thinking. This was a high profile prisoner. Captain wasn't going to be too pleased when he heard... As they turned back to face the otherwise empty jail, they both jerked back in surprise, each finding a blade directly under their chins, the razor-sharp points just drawing blood at their motion.

Directly in front of them stood a golden-skinned elf, his amber eyes hard and unforgiving and his blond hair seriously mussed. The curving tattoo on his cheek stood out starkly in the torchlight. A few paces away, at the corner leading to the exit, stood an exotically beautiful young woman dressed in a well tailored deep purple robe adorned with black feathers, leaning on a gnarled staff. Her expression was just as hard as the elven man. The guard who had come from inside the cell flinched again when the elf drove his other arm forward without a word, his dagger sliding easily through the neck of his companion. The guard collapsed against the wall with a gurgle, his hands flying up to his throat and his mouth moving without sound.

Suddenly, from the cell, came the sound of flesh hitting stone, followed immediately by a pained, feminine whimper. The remaining guard outside the cell saw death before him, rage filling the amber eyes staring at him as he glanced frantically at the woman. She strode forward, her voice a hissing snarl as she asked, "Where. Is. The. Warden."

Being careful not to move, he pointed carefully with one thumb to the door just behind him, and all went black as the cruel-eyed elf drove his blade forward.

Zevran ignored the body as it fell at his feet, his hands moving jerkily as he reached for the cell door. He could hear the struggle inside, could hear a man cursing and muttering, and he could hear the ragged gasps of the other. He prayed that the man he had just killed was lying... that those ragged gasps weren't coming from his Lyna... Morrigan stood just behind him, and he could feel her impatience as he ripped the door open, his amber eyes going wide as he took in the sight inside the small cell.

Lyna lay on the ground, her hands bound above her head in iron shackles and secured to the wall by a short chain. She was struggling fitfully against the man straddling her waist, his armor piled carelessly in the corner of the room and his pants half-undone, his hands curled around her slender neck as she twisted beneath him. The Warden herself was naked, her usually perfect skin paler then usual and covered with cuts and bruises, two shredded pieces of cloth laying to the side, all that remained of her small-clothes. Zevran briefly heard a gasp behind him, but then he heard nothing more, his vision tunneling on the man who dared lay hands on Lyna Mahariel; his Dalish sword already dripping blood, he snarled viciously, moving forward just as the human turned to see who interrupted.

The mans eyes widened almost comically, his mouth dropping open as if to protest even as the silverite Dar'Misaan drove smoothly between his ribs, the curved tip spearing out his back. Still seeing red, the assassin leaned back and kicked against the dying mans chest, shoving him unceremoniously off his sword and sending him crashing against the wall, where he crumpled in a bloody pile. Zevran stared at the shuddering human for a moment as he gasped and gurgled, then turned his amber eyes to Lyna, who was gasping for breath.

The Antivan felt the sword slip from slack fingers as he took in her condition. Her left eye was completely swollen shut, and her right eye was closed, tears seeping from it as she struggled to breathe. Already she had purple bruises forming on her neck where the man had choked her. Her ribcage was colored purple and black in places, and she was bleeding from several cuts. Zevran dropped to his knees at her side, his mouth falling open in horror at the sight. Morrigan pushed past him, ignoring the dead guard, and slid a key into the shackles binding the Warden. Sparked into action by the witch, the Assassin reached out a tentative hand, catching the Warden's fingers as she felt her hands freed and moved to clutch at her ribs.

Zevran swallowed hard as his Warden flinched at his touch, her one good eye flying open; her eyes were pale, silvery grey and filled with pain and panic. Not moving, but not releasing her captured fingers even as she tugged fruitlessly for freedom, the Antivan elf whispered, "Shh... Be calm, my dear Lyna. All will be well. Those... beasts... they are dead now." The Warden blinked her good eye rapidly as he spoke, visibly calming with each word from the assassin. Zevran, unable to pull his eyes away from Lyna's face, murmured, "Morrigan, can you do something for her ribs? We cannot move her as she is..."

The witch drew in a slow breath from where she knelt just over Lyna's head. Her golden eyes were glassy as she took in her friend's condition. "I... maybe. Healing is... not my forte, but I will try." The assassin nodded, absently cupping the Warden's captured hand in both of his own and bringing it to his lips. Lyna opened her split and bleeding lips, her voice coming out in a wheezy croak as she whispered, "I knew you would come..."

Zevran closed his eyes briefly.

"Hush, mi amora. Save your strength."

Lyna offered a feeble nod, her eye closing again as she felt Morrigan place her hands on both of her shoulders. Zevran finally drew his gaze away from her battered face, his attention drawn by the witch as she chanted slowly and carefully, her voice low. Suddenly, her hands began to glow with a warm, golden light, and the mage shuddered in unison with Lyna as the bruises around her ribcage lightened and shrank somewhat. As the glow faded, Lyna drew in a slow, even breath, her body relaxing completely as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Zevran whispered, "Well done. Can you... watch her a moment? I must see about finding her things." The witch just nodded tiredly, absently lifting the sleeping Warden's head and resting it in her lap, her long fingers carefully pushing the tangled ebony hair from her sweat-beaded brow.

The assassin stood slowly, loathe to release his grip on Lyna's hand; still, he knew the witch would keep her safe, and they were not leaving without the Warden's beloved bow, and something to cover her broken, naked body with. He stalked out of the cell, automatically picking up his precious Dar'Misaan as he passed it; they had moved past a small office on their way to the cells. It seemed likely that was where they kept confiscated belongings.

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Morrigan watched absently as Zevran stalked out of the room, her eyes dropping to the broken elf who's head she cradled in her lap once he was gone. Her fingers were gentle as she pushed the Warden's tangled hair off her brow, her golden eyes tired after casting the unfamiliar healing spell. Smiling to herself, she whispered, "Tis a good companion you've found in that one, my friend. I don't understand... not really... but... tis good you kept him, I think." She leaned back against the wall, her mind drifting as she waited for the assassin's return, her staff resting on the ground within easy reach should a guard appear first.

_There was a pause of some length before any of the companions could find the breath to respond, with Morrigan snarling at the man called Taliesin first, "Of course, the Wardens would have to be dead first, isn't that so?"_

_Taliesin shrugged indifferently, his dark eyes still fixed on the assassin, and the qunari and the witch watched as Zevran tensed. Neither could see his eyes, or the rage that flared up in them at the threat against the Wardens. Talin twitched forward, ready to attack when the former Crow answered, his normally honeyed voice cold and hard._

_"And I am not about to let that happen." Taliesin opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows raised and his face twisted in disgust and surprise, but Zevran beat him to it, his sword and dagger flying into hand. "The answer is no, I am not coming back. And you should have stayed in Antiva." With that, the elf practically flew up the stairs, weapons leading, the mabari responding immediately and charging up the stairs as well. Taliesin fell back with a yell, pulling his compatriots out of hiding, and Morrigan took up position on the middle of the stairs, purple energy flying from her fingertips towards the charging assassins and trusting Sten to watch her back as battle erupted around them._

The witch flinched as Zevran materialized silently at the door, the Warden's bow slung over his shoulder and a large sack in hand. He put the bag on the ground, then murmured, "Here, help me get her travel-cloak on her. That will do for now. You can carry the rest in the bag." Morrigan nodded, carefully easing her friend into a seated position; Lyna whimpered slightly at the change of position, and Zevran hesitated briefly before sliding the cloth over her shoulders, one knee braced behind her back as Morrigan held up her head. Nodding towards the sack as he fastened the front of the cloth, the assassin wasted no further time and slid his arm carefully under the dainty elf's battered legs, lifting her easily in both arms.

Morrigan left the cell first, the sack slung over one shoulder and her staff in hand as the Antivan followed her back past the trail of dead they had left in their wake on the way in, his chest tight as he cradled the unconscious Warden against his chest. His only thought was to get back to the Arl's estate, where he knew Wynne was waiting. She could mend his Lyna. _She had to...  
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_In case anyone is unclear, and before I get any nasty messages, don't worry. Of __**course**__ Zevran got there in time. What kind of monster do you take me for? I think one more chapter should do it.  
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