T-rating but this is somewhat violent, so it could be a high T. So, yeah, I personally think it's sort of dark.

Changes the events of the game. I've already played the game. I don't want to write an exact replica of it, and I assume readers don't want to read such.

Feedback of any kind is welcomed.


Dahlia did not fear the dimness that surrounded her in the room, nor did she cower with the rest of the captured elven women. Instead, she sat in the corner, mind turning with all sorts of plots to get out and thoughts of revenge. In silence she smiled, tapping her fingers across her thigh, long dark hair falling around her shoulders.

"Praying, Nola?" she said, voice tight as she glared at the elven woman.

Nola was bent to the ground, hands clasped, eyes filled with salty tears as her face was turned to the sky in askance to the Maker.

Shianni glanced at Dahlia. "Dammit, we're all in this together! Nola, you're driving me insane. Stop it! Dahlia, try to look a little more concerned."

The dark-haired elf stood, brushing herself off. "I'm not concerned. I know what I'll do when they come."

"You're going to die," Nola cried out, whimpering. "You're going to be raped, beaten and killed just like the rest of us."

"Nonsense!" Dahlia spat. "I have a plan."

"What is it, then?" Valora's question came as a challenge to Dahlia's ears.

Dahlia closed her eyes, smiling. "I don't think I will tell you. It doesn't really concern you, now does it? After all, I'm planning my escape, not yours."

Shianni shook her head, thoroughly disgusted. "You are selfish."

"If you aren't strong enough to escape then why is it my problem?" Dahlia's mocking voice echoed as she examined the door, hand running along the thick, rough wood. She leaned down to squint at the lock, and she discovered only one thing: it was fastened tight.

Thin brows lowering, she gritted her teeth and turned to the other elven women, who were staring at her. Ignoring them, she moved to the far corner of the room and leaned against the wall, brushing her long hair nervously. It was irritating the way they looked at her with wide eyes as if they expected her to know what to do. "Don't look at me! I don't have magic powers to get us out of here."

Today was-or had been-Dahlia's wedding day.

Of course, ending up locked in some Baron's mansion along with her bridesmaids-and Valora who was marrying her cousin on the same day-was slightly unexpected. Still, this presented her with an opportunity. After all, she wasn't very interested in marrying the man that had been arranged for her by the Alienage elders. Being tied down to anyone was an annoying prospect. She had plans and ambitions.

Still, she would have to kill this noble who kidnapped her and the other elven women right from her wedding. Anybody who slighted her deserved nothing less.

The door opened, creaking hellishly, and there stood several large men, the torches on the wall barely illuminating them, leaving spots of hideous shadows.

"Why, how are you ladies?" One stepped forward. "Ready to go to the party, wenches?"

Her teeth gritted at the thought of them taking advantage of her.

Rape me? ! Nobody will ever! The thought shot through her head, the anger red hot and building steadily.

She heard a blood-curdling cry interrupt her thoughts, and only moments later did she realize that Nola lied dead on the ground.

"Stupid bitch shouldn't have resisted us," a guard said, spitting on her corpse.

Their attention turned towards Dahlia and the others. The women stepped back for every step they took forward, and the men seemed to enjoy watching the women move away from them, like some sort of twisted game of cat and mouse.

As their backs eventually pressed against the wall, an idea flashed through Dahlia's mind.

They will not take me!

Her hand snatched the torch from the wall, and she held it above her head, and strange shadows were cast heavily below her eyes as she stood there fiercely, holding it high like a sword, bright fire blazing.

"Take my 'friends'," she said, voice icy. "I have no use for them. But if you dare come near me I'll burn myself into a charred crisp…and I'll make sure to burn you boys first."

"Are you crazy, bitch?" The men stared at her.

"What are you doing? !" Shianni screamed, as Valora looked on with her mouth wide open.

"Oh, very crazy," she said, smiling harshly.

"Let her burn," one of the men said.

"We can't. She's the one the Baron was most interested in! He'll be angry!"

They glanced back to Dahlia with angry expressions. "Is this your way of getting out? It won't work. We'll get our hands on you one way or the other."

"I want freedom…" she said. "That's all. You can even have my two friends here."

Shianni tightened her fists, glaring. "You selfish, horrible person!"

"And I'm going to live while you die," she replied simply.

Laughter erupted from the men. "Look at this! Elves really do turn on each other when backed into a corner."

"No, they don't." Shianni scooted closer to Valora, watching Dahlia. "Only scum does."

"Bind the other wenches up," the leader of them said, eyeing Dahlia. "Take them. We'll deal with this one later."

Squirming, screaming, the women were bound by the men as Dahlia watched, holding the torch protectively, ready to drop it and burn herself at any moment.

I am safe, she said as her 'friends' screamed and fought. That's all that matters.

She smiled, disaster happening around her in the most horrible and terrible way, and all she knew was that within the light of the torch she was protected. Oh, she knew she was a horrible person. Her 'friends', everyone knew she was a horrible person, but damn it she would be a horrible person who lived.

As the other elven women, with their hands bound, were taken away, the remaining two guards turned to Dahlia.

The elf stared the men down, fire burning in her green eyes.

Stalemate.

Dahlia's mind turned with cold calculations, but she could think of nothing to do next. The torch was hot in her hands, and eventually it would burn out or she would be forced to actually follow through with her threats, or perhaps these men would grow sick of her and simply let her be.

Not likely.

One of the guards smiled, a grim curl of his lips, and said to his partner, "Go get a crossbow. We'll deal with her from range. She's more trouble than she's worth."

The man nodded, turning, but sent Dahlia a dark glance as he left. He was readying himself for the kill, perhaps savoring it.

Her arm began to shake, and a newfound horror began to overwhelm her senses. Her breathing quickened with the pace of her fear, a cold shiver running like sharp knives along her skin.

I died fighting, unlike those pathetic bitches who'll die on their backs.

I died fighting.

And then…hope.

In the doorway stood a trembling savior, her cousin, Soris, a tall, brown-haired elf, with a stolen sword in his hand.

Her thoughts and body were frozen in shock as her eyes took in the sight.

Unexpected. Very unexpected.

But, oh, was she ever grateful.

Mocking laughter ensued from the remaining guard. "Oh, what is this? An elfling thinking he can rescue the little wench."

His back was turned to Dahlia as he stared at Soris, and she saw her chance.

Quickly, she tossed the torch at the guard's cape, and the fabric caught fire, a frantic blaze beginning as smoke filled the room with hazy tendrils. The guard almost didn't realize what was happening for a few moments, before he looked behind and began panicking. First he tried to kick the fire out, but it was no use as it only spread, so using all his strength he tried to yank his cape off. Frustrated, his movement impaired, he tossed his helmet off, and began fumbling for the cape's clasp.

"Soris! The sword!" she screamed shrilly, jumping towards the door.

For a short time Soris could barely comprehend what was going on. He stood in shocked awe, but when Dahlia screamed again, he slid the sword across the ground towards her.

She picked it up, unbalanced by the weight, and she nearly fell on her face as she tried to swing it at the man. It stretched her shoulder muscles to just hold it, but letting loose a fierce scream, she fought every instinct to drop it and swung again right at his head.

The impact of metal to skin and bone resulted in a scream as the sword was imbedded across his face, his fiery cloak coated in flames, and she saw horror and pain in his expression. Laughing, she hacked at his face again, creating long rivulets of blood.

"So the wench is on top now!" She cried in amusement, adrenaline making every swing easier and smoother.

"Stop it, Dahlia!" Soris couldn't watch, his back against the wall in the other room, but his voice could be heard.

The dying man fell down in pain as fire slowly overtook him, agony mixed with blood on his brutalized features. She stepped back.

"The death you deserve," she said softly and left the room, slamming the door behind her.


Tried to make it so that it might be a little more possible for the relatively inexperienced, unarmored Dahlia who's more used to duel-wielding than a longsword could take down an armored guard. The original situation in the game felt pretty badass but unrealistic. Not to say this is realistic. It really isn't. I'm sure the whole thing is a plot-hole. Feel free to tell me where I went wrong.

She's an unlikable, evil bitch, but there you have it.