Chapter Text
Sabrine Amell lay on her bed, curled up in a ball, numb.
Gone. Gone. He left…. He was gone. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.
The door to the room squeaked opened, heavy footsteps entering. “Well, well, well….” A voice sneered, “your precious Alistair fled like the coward he is.”
“What do you want, Bronwyn,” she asked, softly. She just wanted him gone. How the fate of Fereldan could be placed in the hands of such a vile human, she had no idea.
The menacing figure smirked as he walked closer. He sat on her bed and lay and hand on her knee. Sabrine flinched, his touch stinging like a red hot poker.
“Oh, just letting you know how things are going to be from now on. I did a ritual with Morrigan that will ensure my survival after the destruction of the arch demon. Anora has agreed to a political marriage, and you, my dear, sweet, delectable mage, shall be my consort.” He grabbed her wrists and roughly pulled her into a sitting position, and forced his mouth on hers.
Sabrine tried shoving him away, but most she could do was turn her head, “I will NEVER agree to be your lover.”
“You act as though you have a choice, girl.”
Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud bang and Bronwyn Cousland was pulled away from her and onto the floor. Zevran Arainai, the Antivan Crow, stood over him, “you forget that she is the only thing keeping my blade from your throat.”
Bronwyn scrambled up, glaring at the Crow. He shifted his gaze at Sabrina, “this isn’t over.” He exited with a slam of the door.
Zevran looked at the bed. Sabrina was pale and trembling. He swiftly embracing her, rocking her gently as she cried against his shoulder.
“Zev… Zev. I… we… we need to leave. It isn’t safe for me… for us…. We have to go.”
“Mariposa, I will keep you safe here, have no worries.”
“No, Zevran. I mean it, it isn’t safe for us.” Sabrina grabbed his hand and put it against her stomach, “we need to leave.”
Zevran’s eyes widened. He slowly raised his eyes to look at her, “he left you like this? If I find him, I will kill him. Free of charge,”
Sabrine shook her head, “no. He didn’t know. I didn’t know… not until after Wynne checked on me after…”. After the Landsmeet where Loghain was conscripted and Alistair left, she had froze and fainted. She took a ragged breath, “Wynne examined me. She…. She is the only one who knows, besides you. I swore her to secrecy.”
Zevran nodded, thinking. It would be easy enough to sneak out at the cover of night and slip onto a ship leaving Dennerim. “Where shall we go?”
“Kirkwall. I… my mother had a cousin there. Perhaps they can help.”
Zevran kissed her forehead, “leave it to me. I… know people and am owed favors.”
It was a long journey. True to his word, Zevran got them into the City of Chains. They had guards posted, keeping any refugees still coming from Fereldan out. Somehow, Zevran got the smuggled in. After knowing each other for almost a year, Sabrina knew not to question exactly how he managed to do… well… anything. He had acquired them a small, sparsely furnished, one room abode in Lowtown. They had used Sabrine’s expanding belly to pose as a couple to garner sympathy. Sabrine was careful to hide her staff. Being around so many Templars and close to such an imposing Circle made her… nervous.
Currently, Sabrine was curled up on her side, fairly miserable. She was hot, achy, and could barely keep anything down. Her hand rested on her stomach, eyes closed, letting her mind drift. As it often did, it drifted to thoughts of her lost Love. Where was he? Did he still think of her? Did he still love her?
Zevran quietly entered their shared abode. He knelt down and looked at her in the eyes, smoothing her dark hair back from her face. She smiled weakly as he looked at her, his mouth frowning slightly in concern.
“Mariposa,” he started, “you need to see a healer.”
Sabine closed her eyes and sighed. Not this again.
“Zev… how? We can barely afford food and a roof as it is.”
“There’s a healer… in Darktown. They say he helps the refugees. Please, for me, Sabine.”
She rested her hand against his cheek, “will it make you finally stop pestering me?”
“Until I can find something else to pester you about? Yes.” Zevran helped her to stand, “besides, the fresh air will do you good.”
“In Darktown?”
“Well… the fresh air on the way TO Darktown will do you some good.”
They made their way past the Hanged Man, and side alleys. Down dark tunnel before entering Darktown. Sabrine clung to Zevran’s arm, her eyes darting around. She knew that she was safe with him, but if the last year taught her anything… it was always be prepared. After winding their way through dusty, dirty, what one could barely called pathways, they came to a tattered door. Zevran knocked once and pushed it open.
A tall, slender man with blonde hair pulled back from his face was examining a young man. Light blue magic swirling from his hands. The magic washed over the young man’s arm, who was cradling it against his chest. Soon, the magic faded and the healer started talking to the young man in a hushed tone. Trying to avoid eavesdropping, Sabine kept darting her eyes around. Small, makeshift cots spaced around the room, though there was one pushed to the side with a curtain partially pulled shut. A series of shelves holding various bottles, vials, and herbs. A staff leaning against the wall.
The young man pushed past Sabine. She grabbed Zevran’s arm and shook her head. She didn’t need any extra drama. Zevran grumbled under his breath before calling to the healer, “hello? Are you the healer?”
The man turned around at the words. He looked at Zevran, then to Sabine. His eyes briefly flashed with a bright blue white light. They soon returned to normal, but widened in recognition.
“Sabrine?”
“Anders?”