For my friend, The Outlander, for sending me the entire OST of the game. :) Thank you so much again!

Leliana lies on the cold stone floor of the prison cell, staring at the crescent moon hovering in the distance, and she wonders how everything went wrong, why everything went wrong. The soldiers had waved the papers in her face before they shoved her onto the torture rack, and she knows what happened. No one needs to spell it out for her. But why, she cannot understand.

She cannot move now. She can only lie here, stare at the moon, and wonder. Has she not done anything and everything Marjolaine ever asked of her? Has she not proven her loyalty and devotion time and time again? Did Marjolaine not laugh with her, smile with her, when they were alone and tired after a long day? Did they not sing together when they traveled, weaving together beautiful strains of harmony that would put the heavens to shame?

Leliana closes her eyes and dispels the sights, the sounds, the feelings, that once brought her comfort during a lonely night. She cannot dwell now. She needs to find her strength, and she needs to move, and she needs to escape. She knows Marjolaine will not come for her, and she knows Marjolaine has all but condemned her to die in this place.

She knows that if Marjolaine does come for her, it will be to kill her herself.

Leliana lifts a finger, and then two, and she finds that it gives her little pain to drum all then against the stone beneath her. She winces as she bends her wrists, and then her elbows, and as she lifts her arms from the ground. No, she cannot allow herself to be taken by this pain. She nearly cries out as she sits up, but she purses her lips together, for she cannot risk drawing the guard's attention.

Her eyes travel to the cell door, where a rusty plate with a moldy piece of bread sits, waiting for her. Her stomach grumbles, discontented, but she ignores it and carefully examines every crack in the walls of the prison, the bars of the window and door, looking for a vulnerability in the structure. There is none; she must find another way.

She picks herself off from the ground, grabbing onto the edge of the cot for leverage, and an idea crosses her mind. Many names were shouted, growled, leered at her, and she remembers one that perhaps will work to her advantage. She experiments with one or two steps and finds that perhaps if she is fast enough, she can ignore her pain completely to make her escape. She will tend to her sore muscles later.

Though her rags are tattered and torn, she makes one last modification, knowing that the tiniest tease will make even the toughest guard crumble. She then moans and coos, and like a moth to a flame the guard comes over. She complains of the cold, and keeps herself from smirking when the guard's face softens from annoyed to intrigued. He opens the cell door, and she waits until he is in before throwing a pained punch into his face.

The guard topples to the ground, and it takes all of Leliana's strength to make sure she does not follow suit. Knowing she will not be able to move efficiently in armor, she only strips the man of his sword and dagger and keys.

She locks the cell door behind her and darts between shadows on her way out of the fortress. The escape is either too easy or Marjolaine taught her too well, but she keeps a mindful watch on her back as she escapes into the darkness of the forest beyond the gates.

It isn't long before an alarm is raised, and Leliana knows that she has no place in Orlais any longer. With a heavy heart she pushes towards the east, towards a new life, and Maker help her find her way again.