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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4863 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of the Dragon Age characters. This is a non-profit fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Anon: Thanks a lot. Now let's see if he can save her in time.
Chapter 7 - Conflicting Evidence
“You want a reason?” Teagan asked exasperatedly, still trying to convince me of Rori’s guilt. I wouldn’t accept money as a motive. I had offered Rori my help. She knew I wouldn’t let her down. So why murder me for money? It didn’t make any sense to me. “How about revenge? You killed Howe.”
“What!? Howe murdered her family! He tortured her! He raped her! She hates him!” I exclaimed in as much exasperation. Surely he didn’t expect me to believe she could have felt anything but hatred for him.
“It’s been known to happen—hostages falling in love with their captors,” Teagan said softly. “Their minds get twisted by fear and pain until the hatred turns into adoration.”
Maker’s Breath! If that had happened to her... The poor soul... No, this couldn’t be true! “Not Rori! Whenever she talks about Howe, she does so with complete and utter loathing.”
“You keep telling yourself that, your Majesty.”
“Didn’t you only recently say she was enraptured by me?” Teagan was majorly getting on my nerves. I had accepted his company simply because it was easier to drag him along than to fight with Eamon about my entourage. I didn’t want to waste precious time so I had said yes to Teagan, to a dozen royal guards, to an emergency healer, and to a carriage drawn by four horses to accompany me; everybody was acting as if I were made of porcelain. So now I slumped in the cushions of my carriage, twiddled my thumbs, and every now and then barked at the coachman to hurry.
“I might have been mistaken,” Teagan admitted. “Maker’s Breath, Alistair! She was right there with the tool in her hands! The letter, the money… What more do you need to accept the truth?”
Tiredly I massaged my temples. “Everybody keeps telling me what a great king I make because I have a heart of gold. And you always say: ‘Listen to your heart, it will guide you.’ So I’m here acting on your advice, Teagan.”
“Your heart tells you to visit a brothel?” Teagan asked uneasily when he looked out of the window as soon as the carriage stopped.
“Don’t let the name fool you. They don’t serve broth. I asked.”
My arrival at the Pearl caused a mighty concourse of people. Obviously whenever nobles visited a brothel they neither appeared with an entourage of twelve knights in splendid armor, nor did they enter through the front door. Of course I could have avoided becoming the target of vicious gossip if I had invited my acquaintance to the palace. The idle waiting, however, would have driven me crazy. In addition, I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the palace. Last but not least, Eamon would tear his hair out once he heard of my adventures. I was unreasonably gleeful about that.
The proprietor greeted us with an expectant smile and the gleam of greed in her eyes. “Your Majesty,” she cooed, already beckoning her employees to form a line behind her. “It’s an honor to welcome you...”
“I’m not here to spend any money,” I cut her short and the smile was immediately wiped off her face. “I am looking for Zevran Arainai.”
“Zevran, you say?” She frowned, tapping her index finger against her chin thoughtfully. Sighing, I dropped a few coins into her palm to jog her memory. “Down the corridor, third door to the left.”
And that’s where I went, barging in without caring to knock. Big mistake! “Zevran, I... Maker’s Breath!” Backwards I tumbled out of the room, covering my eyes with my hand and slamming the door shut again quickly. Surely Rori would last a little longer... Blast no! I couldn’t keep her waiting. Utterly fearless I re-entered, strictly staring at my feet this time, though.
“Alistair, my royal friend, what brings you here?” the Antivan elf asked merrily, completely unperturbed by my presence. “Say hello to the King of Ferelden, my lovelies.” A greeting in unison from several voices, male and female, followed. “You are welcome to participate...”
“NO!” I shrieked, blushing violently.
“Still the finicky type, I see,” Zevran sighed.
“Just take a look at this letter!” I waved the main piece of evidence in his direction.
“Alas, you have some very poor timing, my prim friend.”
“It’s a matter of life and death!” And when that didn’t do the trick, I added: “I’ll settle your bill.” And just to make sure I got the elf’s attention: “Her bosom is rather large.”
“Aha! So we rescue the damsel in distress? Just like the old times! Good of you, my friend.” Five minutes later, Zevran was decently dressed and filled in on the recent events.
Teagan was none too thrilled by Zevran’s presence. “You ask an assassin for help to convict an assassin?”
“Who would know better about assassins than an assassin?” Zevran asked merrily.
“Here!” I beamed triumphantly, and much to Teagan’s dismay, handed the main piece of evidence to the former assassin.
“Hmm… this letter is fake,” Zevran chuckled after a quick look.
“I knew it! She’s innocent!”
“Don’t get too excited, my foolish friend,” Zevran dampened my enthusiasm. “The Crows did not hire her, but that doesn’t mean no one else did. The client could pass themselves off as the Crows. To use the Crows’ name and reputation is stupid and suicidal, but people have done more idiotic things. Your little imp isn’t off the hook just yet.”
“If she really attempted to kill me, why didn’t she finish the job while I was unconscious?” I wondered.
“It had to look like an accident,” Teagan mused.
“She could have suffocated me with a blanket. Nobody would have noticed.”
“Perhaps her conscience pricked her? She could have found she likes you more than she thought,” Teagan went on. “See, that’s what happened with Katriel, too. She was a bard sent to lure Maric into a trap. She completed her mission by giving him false information about West Hill, but while the battle was still raging, she ran to Maric’s aid and saved his life.” Zevran and I looked at each other and the elf shook his head no. Yeah, right, better not inform Teagan I was totally willing to forgive Rori and offer her a second chance like Surana had done with Zevran in case his theory was true. My advisors already doubted my sanity.
“Where did you find the letter?” Zevran asked as we left the Pearl and climbed into the waiting carriage.
“She used it as a bookmark,” Teagan answered. “The money was in her boots.”
“She’s either careless, stupid, or quite callous.” Zevran rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Or someone hid it there for you to find it and put the blame on her.”
“But why?” I exclaimed.
“Do you really have to ask?” Teagan sighed. “Your bachelorettes see their hopes dashed to become queen more and more with each passing day. Lady Cousland spends more time with you than all the other ladies combined.”
“None of them will become queen when there’s no king left to marry,” I pointed out. “Unless I return as an undead...” I shut up when Teagan glowered at me.
“What if there’s no connection?” Zevran wondered out loud. “You, my dear royal friend, have made a lot of enemies. Many nobles could feel tempted to get rid of you for good while many young women see your little imp as a threat.”
“A coincidence?” Teagan snorted in disbelief.
“We shouldn’t leave any option out of account,” Zevran reasoned. “It is possible that the letter and the money were placed there to discredit her while the attempt on Alistair’s life was performed by another group unaware of the intrigue. We should talk to the little imp and see if she can enlighten us.”
“You don’t really expect her to tell the truth, do you?” Teagan growled. “She’ll flat out lie to you to save her life!”
“Lies can be quite revealing, Lord Teagan,” Zevran said merrily.
Fort Drakon loomed above us, casting its shadows like a forerunner of doom. The memories connected to this Maker-forsaken place were a source of unrest still haunting me—both in my waking hours and whenever exhaustion forced me to sleep. I crouched on my seat in the carriage, unable to stop trembling, eyes pressed shut, sweat forming on my brow as the images of the past devoured me. The moment the archdemon had collapsed, I had grabbed my sword, ready to act on my duty. Suri’s spell froze me right in the motion of charging. Paralyzed, I had been forced to watch her sacrifice herself. I remembered the dead weight of Suri’s body in my arms, how she had become cold and stiff while I had clung to her, begging her to return to me...
The moment we passed the gates of Fort Drakon, gaping like a monster’s maw, it didn’t matter anymore if Rori was innocent. I had failed Suri. I was not going to fail Rori. She would survive, and I would atone for my wrongs. If I died in the process... so be it.
We were shown to the Colonel’s office at once. Eamon was already present. Needless to say, I wasn’t very keen on meeting him. We still went through the formal greeting when a fat bald man entered. He carried a tray with a whole lot of very nasty looking instruments with him and handed the Colonel a sheet of paper.
“Good news, your Majesty,” the Colonel droned and contentedly rubbed his hands. “I’ve just been informed the captive has confessed.”
“Thank the Maker,” Eamon said. “Now this farce has come to an end.”
“Wait! What did she confess?” Suspiciously I eyed the bald man and his tray. “What did you do to her?!”
“I did nothing to her, your Majesty, Ser,” the bald man muttered disappointedly before the Colonel could stop him. “Showed her my tools, that’s all I did. Explained to her how they work, and when I showed her my baby...” He took up a very nasty looking instrument reminding me of pincers with four instead of two claws and patted it gently. “... she folded.” He heaved a frustrated sigh.
“Don’t.” Zevran hissed at the same time I went: “What in the name of the Maker is that thing for?”
A gleam of delight lit the torturer’s eyes, black and shiny like big beetles. “It’s an Iron Spider, your Majesty,” he explained keenly. “She’s my favorite. I heat her claws until they are red-hot and then clench her around a female breast...” He chortled giddily—until I punched him straight in the face.
“Who gave you permission to torture her!?” I pressed through gritted teeth, my fists clenched.
“I didn’t torture her!” the bald man squeaked unhappily, spitting out blood and several teeth. “I didn’t even get started! I had her undressed and shackled...” I punched him again. “I am but a faithful servant of His Majesty!” the man whined, covering his head with his hands. “I only act on command!”
“Who gave you this command?” I snarled menacingly. Boy, I was so hopping mad I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam had risen from my ears.
“By command of Arl Eamon...” the Colonel stammered, flinching when he saw himself face to face with his frenzied king.
“WHAT!?” Eamon and I exclaimed in unison. I would have lunged myself at him if not for the four guards who entered the room and by their mere presence, worked as a barrier between Eamon and me. “You did this...!?” I snapped at the same time as Eamon went: “I didn’t!”
“I received a letter,” the Colonel hurried to say, beckoning one of the guards to pass the paper to me.
“Aren’t you a bit short for a guard?” I asked currishly, snatching the letter from the guard—the only one to wear a helmet.
“It’s hard to find new recruits,” the Colonel hurriedly excused his choice of employees. “We take whomever we can get.” He went on about the shortage after the Blight, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I stared at the letter in my hand, a command signed by Eamon.
“It’s his signet but the signature is not Eamon’s. I know my brother’s handwriting,” Teagan blurted out once he had taken a look at the letter.
“Alas, we now have two forged documents,” Zevran resumed. “Someone really wants to get rid of the little imp.”
“This indeed is alarming,” Eamon admitted. “Still, it doesn’t change anything about Lady Cousland’s confession. We now know for sure she is guilty.”
“Are you mad?! We know absolutely nothing!” I insisted. “She confessed after threats of torture. You can hardly take this seriously! I want to talk to her. Now!”
The Colonel immediately sent one of the guards to fetch Rori and we were left waiting. “You indeed are rather short,” the Colonel grumbled, regarding the smallest of the remaining guards when the silence in the room became grueling. “How old are you? Twelve? Are you sure you are ready for this?”
“Ser, yes, Ser!” The sound of the guard’s voice had me perk my head up. Feeling my eyes lingering, the guard shrank into the shadows.
“Straighten up!” the Colonel barked, stepping around his desk to take a closer look at the new recruit.
Suddenly the door burst open and the guard sent to fetch the captive barged in. “She is gone!” he gasped.
“Gone?!” the Colonel bellowed, turning away from the guard he had just scrutinized.
“We have to find her!” Eamon shouted. “She is dangerous! Colonel, I will hold you personally responsible for her escape!”
That sent them all running. The Colonel barked commands, rushing out of his office with Eamon, Teagan, Zevran, and the guards in tow. When the door slammed shut behind them, I was left alone with the short guard still standing in her corner with her shoulders slumped.
“This is your chance to escape,” I said.
“Hardly,” Rori answered. After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her helmet, revealing a dirty mass of tousled red curls. She had a black eye and her lips were swollen. “They ask for a password at the gates. The one who knows it just ran out the door to search for me.”
“Seems like you need a Plan B.” I slowly shredded her confession, the paper shavings floating to the ground. Rori watched me with wide eyes.
“Indeed,” she croaked, her voice cracked by the effort of holding back her tears.
“You’re in luck. I just happen to have one up my sleeve.” I grinned.
- 6
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What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted