When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Determined

Una awoke abruptly, her head pounding. Slowly she took stock of her situation—she was lying on the stone floor of a cell, clad only in her smallclothes and breastband. Putting a hand to her head, she sat up, her eyes meeting the avid gaze of a very unwashed man in the next cell over.

"You look like you been dragged through ten kinds of crap, friend," he said, and she looked down at herself. She was covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes. Most of those were from the fights in Howe's estate, but she thought a couple looked fresher and must have been picked up on the way to this cell. "What'd you do?" the other prisoner asked.

Clearing her throat, Una said, "I killed Rendon Howe."

The prisoner did a double-take, looking her over again. Una held still for the scrutiny, keeping her eyes steady on his, and eventually he nodded, as though deciding to take her word for it. "Who calls that a crime, anyway?" he said with a dark laugh. "More like a public service. Still, they'll hang you for it."

At that, Una made a supreme effort and got to her feet, her muscles screaming in protest. "Not a chance. I'm getting out of here."

Her fellow prisoner offered her a sardonic grin. "Good luck with that. I'll just be over here waiting for the Maker to walk in and sing us a sea chantey—seems the more likely event."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Una said absently, beginning a study of the cell. It seemed solidly built—no loose bars, no crumbling mortar, no obvious flaws in design or build that would allow her to squeeze through anywhere. She was tall, but she was narrowly built, and she had a try at sliding through the bars, but she wasn't quite that narrow.

The prisoner in the next cell watched her with amusement. "You know you're not accomplishing anything but giving me a nice show, right?" He eyed her good-humoredly.

Una shrugged. "Has to be done. Anything's better than just sitting here."

"I thought that, too, when I first got here. You'll learn," he said.

She shut his skepticism out and continued her survey of the bars. After a little while, she heard footsteps approaching, footsteps and a loud jingling of keys. Shortly afterward, the jailer came around the corner. As she'd imagined, he was jingling the keys on purpose, loudly and with a malicious grin on his face. His look as he eyed her up and down was significantly less good-humored than her fellow prisoner's, and it made Una want to cover up and to hit him, both at the same time.

There was nothing to cover herself up with ... but she could definitely fit her arm through the bars. She called him over, making an effort to sound plaintive and weak.

"If you're not bleeding," the jailer said, "I don't care." But he strolled over anyway, if only to taunt her with the keys just out of her reach.

As soon as he came close enough that she was sure she could hit him, Una did just that, balling up her fist and shooting it abruptly between two bars, catching the jailer just under the chin. She was particularly proud of that punch and very sad that Alistair wasn't there to see it.

The jailer's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell over. Una grabbed him by the arm and hauled him over the stones toward her until she could reach the keys hanging from his belt. Slipping them off, she hurried to the lock of her cell, trying each key in turn as fast as she could until she found the one that fit the lock.

"Here." She handed the ring of keys to her fellow prisoner.

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"