Chapter Text
I wake up to a white blind light and a high pitch ringing sound. The sudden brightness put me in disarray, and I'm forced to shut my eyes. My living room lamp shouldn't be this bright. It can barely light up the corner of the room. From the heat I feel on my face, it must be sunlight. Did I leave the blinds open again?
With my sight temporarily out of order, my brain begins to wake up my other senses. My hearing is beginning to clear. I hear muffle voices and fire crackling sounds. Soon I hear shuffling of…feet?
I notice the pain on my back. Like a roller-coaster, it travels up my spine to the back of my neck, and finally to my frontal lobe. My brain is throbbing. I can practically feel the swelling.
"What…the hell?"
My voice comes out raspy. My throat is rough and dry, but I'm loud enough to hear myself. But it seems I'm not the only one. A few surprised gasps catch my attention. I quickly look up.
My breathing cuts in short. I'm surrounded by people, a group of older men wearing robes and small capes around their shoulders. Even with their knees bend and their back hunching over to see me, their faces are blurry.
"She speaks!"
"That means she's alive!"
"But that fall…"
Fall? What fall?! Do they mean me? I fell?
Am I in a hospital? Well that would explains why everything is so bright. As soon as I process what the doctors said, I feel all the muscles in my body ache. The pain covers from head to toe as if I just finish running a marathon. A marathon that involved me carrying heavy weight bells…holy shit what the hell did I do?
Among the men, I heard an old woman's voice, calm and concerned, "We need to heal any injuries she might have."
"Heal?" One of men speaks out. His voice sounds appalled by the idea. I take offense to it. Doctors are supposed to help their patients? It would be my shitty luck that I get stuck with an asshole one. "She might be dangerous!” He exclaimed, the know-it-all tone sounds familiar to me, “She could be-"
I don't hear the rest of his sentence. The woman shuts him down. "Uldred, do you think it's wise to make such an assumption with Templars around?"
Templars? Did I hear that correctly? I thought these were doctors?!
Something…isn’t right.
Glasses…I need my glasses! I need to figure out what the hell is going on and who these crazy people are—
My sudden panic makes my head turn. I groan from the pain and mumble an, “Ouch, damn it.”
"How dare you-!"
I feel a present kneeling beside me. The pounding of my heart beats thumps against my chest. I want nothing more than to move away. Her drawing closer makes me flint. Her soft tone hushing me to calm me down, “Can you sit up?” Her voice is more soothing when she speaks me.
I swallow my spit and lied, "Maybe." I didn’t want to flat out say no.
She also sounds familiar, but at the moment my mind is too scrambled to remember. Slowly, I raise my head and use my elbows to lift my upper body. It's more difficult than I thought. My body feels more like a two ton cement brick than flesh. My struggles go unnoticed until the woman's hand is on my back to help me sit up, again, I flint at her touch.
"I feel like an elephant just walked all over me…" I groan.
The heaviness is not there for long, it is replaced by a warm, comforting sensation. The same warmth you feel when you place a heating pad over a muscle, except its spreading throughout my body. When the feeling reaches the top of my head, I no longer feel the massive headache.
Oddly enough, the feeling doesn't stop. The sensation slowly trails down to my temples. I place my fingers on the side of my face. The tip of my fingers can feel the warmth.
The ground I sit on comes into clear view. I notice the detailing of the grey stone. It has some old age to it with how rocky it feels and its cover in dark brown dirt, small rocks, and black ash. There is small plant life growing through the cracks.
Nothing is a color blur. Somehow my vision is healed. My chest swells up and knots itself in excitement…and anxiousness. How is this even possible?
"Do you remember your name?"
Slowly, I nod. I take time answering her question as I’m still in the state of shock. "Ellen." With more confidence I repeat myself, "It’s Ellen," and then curse myself. I shouldn’t have given my real name to whoever these people are. They could be possible psychopaths.
"Ellen, do you know the year?"
"Two thousand fifteen."
Mumbles occur from answer. Some are confused, and others in disbelief. "Two thousand fifteen! Non-senses she speaks!" I withdraw myself as I the whispers among the crowd.
"Tevinter?" Another shares his concern.
"Have they developed time magic?"
The familiar voice from earlier, Uldred, immediately shatters the idea before anyone continues, "Impossible! No such thing exists!"
Tevinter? As in Dragon Age Tevinter?
There’s has to be a mistake.
I wait patiently for another question, but it never comes. Every second passes, I get more uncomfortable with silence from my questioner. Ignoring my neck pain, I lift my head to see who is by my side, if she's still there. By the small crow's feet alongside her eyes, the woman is in her late fifties, maybe older. Her hair is completely white and tied back into a tight bun, and she has fair skin and stormy gray eyes. Her pink button nose scrunches down, along with her gray eyebrows.
My eyes widen and I inhale a large sharp breath as I now recognize who the voice belongs to.
Wynne is her name. She's a powerful and well respected mage from the Ferelden's Circle of Magi. Of all the magic she has mastered, the woman specializes in sprit healing. She carries herself as insightful, collected, and dutiful.
Searching for more information about the woman in front of me, my memory slaps with one important fact.
She's a video game character.
I’m dreaming. That’s it. I’m dreaming all this.
So…why are all my senses telling me I’m not supposed to me here, that I can’t be here.
I only feel this anxious if I’m in a nightmare. Could I be?
"Do you know what month it is?"
My train of thought changes tracks. "March" I answer her. My roommate had her black suitcase in hand. She waved at me and I remembered telling her to drive safe. She was going home for spring break to visit her family.
Wynne gives me a surveying look. She seems confused... and concerned about my answers. Someone decides to voice her thoughts out loud for her.
"What did she say?!"
She doesn't hesitate to ask the next question. "What is the last thing you remember?"
I close my eyes for a second. It feel weird recall my recent memory in a dream. It's more of a feeling of what I was doing than picturing it. I was doing something with both my hands, "I was...drawing I think?"
That sounds about right to me. If not drawing, then I was playing a video game or typing out a fan fiction on my laptop.
"Your memory seems to be unharmed." Wynne smiles, but it's a small one. "Or you're trying to convince us it isn't. Your answers are rather strange."
"Strange, Wynne?! They make no sense!"
"You can't actually believe her?!"
Wynne briefly looks away from me to glare at the senior enchanters, "There is some truth to what she says. She doesn't-"
"What is this?!"
The angry shout startles me. My heart is beating too fast for me to catch my breath.
Two men in grey, heavy, knight-like armor stomp towards us. The adrenaline rushes through my veins like an electric current. I withdraw from the situation by I crab walking away from the pursuers, but I don't get far as I stumble on a pair of leather boots. Their large, sharp shoulder pads and long red skirts that reach down their ankles convince me they're not knights. No, my subconscious tells me, Templars.
Wynne helps me stand on my feet. My legs are shaky as a new born doe learning to walk for the first time. If I didn't lean on Wynne for support, no doubt I would fall on my knees.
His angry voice echoes one more, "We let you mages explore the Fade and you summon a - a?!" the man points his heavy armored finger at me. "A DEMON?!"
"Demon?!" I repeat his word. I feel Wynne tighten her grip on me.
"Did I not try to tell you Wynne!" I hear a told-you-so tone coming from Udlred. "My assumptions are never wrong." This man is starting to get on my nerves…
One of the mages is brave enough to argue back. "This is not our doing, Templar!"
Another argues, "We are all here! Not one of us has given into temptation!"
They take a step back from the Templar's booming voice. "YOU ARE SUPPOSE TO PREPARE FOR THE UPCOMING BATTLE-"
My panic turns to angry, "I'm not a demon!"
Without hesitation, the Templar raises his arm to grab the handle of his sword being carried on his back. His partner follows his example quickly. I take a step back and feel something crack underneath my shoe. I don't dare take a peek, not when there's a weapon in my face.
"Don't pretend to be innocent! We witnessed you falling from a portal these mages conjured while they were in the Fade!"
"We conjured nothing!"
"SLIENCE, ROBES!"
Their words take time to register, “Falling? I…I don’t remember.” No memory of the fall comes to me, only feelings. There feelings that I can’t comprehend. This is weird. Since when does dream logic not make sense to me?
My anxiety rises. The chill feeling that I’m trespassing returns.
“You lie, demon!”
"I'm not a demon, I'm telling you, damn it!" My anger matches theirs. "If you dipshits actually take off the tin cans, you'd see that I have no tail, no deforming and decaying skin, ugly growth on my shoulders, and I'm not gushing out lava!"
The Templars ready their blades and shields. The mental image of a sword going through my stomach and dropping to my knees from the pain…isn't a lovely picture. I can feel sweat forming on the back of my neck from the anxiety.
"You'll not fool us!"
"That's a bit late for that!"
I snap back in a high-pitch tone. Not exactly the best come back to make for a situation like this. I step closer to Wynne, enough that I’m arm to arm with her. My breathing is just as shaky as my legs. I remember Anders, from the second Dragon Age game, came across someone who was being accused of demon possessed.
What he did was blast them with some type of spirit spell. The spell wouldn’t harm the person if they weren’t harboring a demon.
"Don't…don't you guys have some type of spell to tell if a person is p-possessed by a demon?!" I choke out my words.
The Templars halt for a brief moment as if they're hesitant.
"A test?" The men in armor share a glance with each other, "You suggest… such an idea?"
"How else am I'm going to prove to you blind dips that I'm not a demon?!" I didn't think I had to make myself any clearer.
"I suppose…there is a way." After all this time, Wynne finally speaks up. The elder straightens her back and looks directly at the Templars faces, "I can dispel any influences that came from the Fade. If she's telling the truth, she'll remain unharmed."
"And if she's lying?" I can hear a hiss under his helmet.
I roll my eyes at the obvious outcome, “Well dying from a spell sounds less pain than being stabbed." This is not true, of course. I rather not die at all.
The uncomfortable staring I receive from my bitter sarcasm is making me regret not keeping it to myself.
The Templars look at each other and then look back at the spirit mage. Templar number one, the one who has been arguing all this time, nods his head slowly. They both keep their shields up and leave an arm's length of space between the sword and my neck.
"Move back a few feet from me." She instructs me. I follow as I take five steps away from her. Wynne lifts her hand. A softball size glowing orb forms in the palm of her hand. Small sparks of electricity shoot out from its rim.
I hold my breath as the act is imitating. I feel my hands shake. I know I’m not a demon and I know I’m not a mage, but this doesn’t make this any less terrifying.
In a blink, the sphere of light is hurtling towards me.
I hunch forward from reflex. A small vibration hits the area of my lower abdomen and the feeling spreads throughout my body. It makes my skin crawl. I see a trail of goosebumps on my arms. When the vibrations rush down my spine, I shiver. The small hairs on the back of my neck straighten.
"Fucking hell…" I’m still trying to register what happened to me. I feel expose, as if someone air out all of my dirty laundry.
Wynne places her hands back to her side and she directs her attention back to the Templars. "As she says gentlemen, she's no demon."
The mage hunters look at each other. "If not a demon, a mage then?"
“Have to be” His colleague agrees hysterically.
Although they are not talking to me, I give them my input, "No! No I’m not!"
I can feel them glaring at my outburst. Both swords come into my line of sight. I raise both hands in the air as if I'm being placed under arrest. My angry rises once again, "I’m telling you the truth!" at this point I’m on the verge of tears.
"I can attest to this" Wynne steps forward. "As I said before, the spell I cast dispel all influences of the Fade. A mage would have been affect by this would have collapse, yet she still stands. She possesses no magic in her blood."
The men go back to their conversation of what to do with me. Templar number two suggests detaining me until they can inform their king of the situation. Though, it might be impossible to get word to him. The king is too busy preparing his army for the upcoming battle. They'll get faster results informing the teyrn. They'll keep me with the other prisoner, a runner and a thief. The Templars debate if I should be in shackles or in a cage.
I hear Uldred snarling behind me. "You placed inside a cage is a suitable solution."
My nostrils flare up and I bite the inside of my cheek. I rotate my heels so that the front of my body is facing him. Uldred's fair skin is covered in wrinkles. The noticeable ones outline his boney cheeks and his forehead. The man is bald, but from his thick eyebrows he used to have black hair. His long pointed nose is sharp enough to be a dagger. He's shorter than the avenge man. His olive green robes cover his feet and touch the dirt ground.
Seeing his face, images of the Circle of Magi being overrun by blood mages, demons, and abominations flash through my mind. ‘Broken Circle’ was one of my least favorite questlines. I remember the multiple dead bodies in every room I explored, and the walls stained in blood. Uldred is the man who orchestrated the massacre.
"Imprisonment is unnecessary.” Wynne settles them down with reason. "Her attitude is...presumptuous."
I break my staring contest with Uldred. I close my o-shape mouth that shock had made for me and press my attention towards Wynne.
She continues to persuade, "But she is defenseless. She has no physical weapon present or any armor to protect herself."
Templar number one growls, "Weapon or not she still came from the Fade-"
Wynne gently cuts off his sentence. "I haven't forgotten. I witnessed her fall, but you and I both know it's physically impossible to enter the Fade. Her situation is very alarming, and I see her as a threat as much as you, gentlemen…"
I gulp as she turns to me with a stern look, "I would like watch over her, personally. Should anything happen, especially involving magic, I'm more qualified to handle her than a mere station guard." The Templars seem satisfied though disgruntled at the end of her explanation and agree to release me into her custody.
Wynne places her hand on my shoulder and begins to guide me in the direction of the main camp. When I take a step forward, I hear the same crack as before. Almost sounds like I'm breaking glass under my foot. I remove my shoe and look down towards the ground.
"Oh shit…"
It wasn't glass I heard, but plastic. I stepped on the hard plastic lenses from my large, black frame glasses. Slowly, I pick it up and inspect the damage further. I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from frowning when I rub my thumbs over the lenses. The cracks on both lenses look like spiral spider webs. The frame, thankfully, only has scratches.
"Come."
With one simple word, I begin to walk again. Looking over my shoulder, the Templars watch my leave carefully. They return to their guarding post between two large ruin pillars. My eyes travel past them to the mages. They glare at me, especially Uldred. The wrinkles on his scowling face remind me of chewed gum that's been stepped on…repeatedly.
When our distance is far enough, they talk among themselves. I see a mixture of anger and confusion. I wonder if they're debating if they should go back into the Fade.
Entering the open camping ground, my eyes are drawn to the men and women. They are dressed in medieval robes and leather armor. Some are even dressed in heavy mail armor with blades and shields on their backs. I walk past two warriors in conversation, both carrying short swords. But not all warriors wield swords; there are those that have bows on their backs and a pack of arrows.
The camp has many large, circus-like purple tents. I worry for a moment the color might draw attention to themselves for the enemies, but then I notice the pine trees behind them. They are as tall as a ten story building; their branches hide the tents.
Up ahead, to my left, is a wooden stage about five feet off the ground. A woman stands in the middle and preaches about the Maker and his bride, Andraste, to any soldier who'll listen. Wynne and I find a comfortable spot under the pine trees next to a black stew pot the size of a baby donkey.
"Um…" I squish the glasses in my hands before breaking the silence, "So...do you really believe...that I'm a threat?"
She sighs. "I will not lie. I do, to some extent. You're in…an odd situation. I cannot wrap my head around the idea of a physical being, especially someone without magic, coming out of the Fade. It's very unsettling."
"I promise you, I'm not a threat, really!" I shake my head. "I'm just as confused as you are. I mean magic dimensional portals, I'm so calling bullshit. No crap like that exists!" At this point I'm rambling on, "I'm in Dragon Age. DRAGON AGE FOR FUCK'S SAKE! How the hell does this-" I motion my hand in a roundabout way in front of me. "-exist! It shouldn't!"
The unsettling feeling resurfaces. I’m not supposed to be here.
"Tell me...exactly when are you from?"
"When?" I question her wording, "What? You think I'm from a different time? I thought time magic wasn't a thing?"
"Over the years, I've learned magic takes the form of many things. There's a spell, now a days, for everything…some that should never be tampered with. Controlling time is unheard of, but not impossible to accomplish."
"Why are you asking?”
I quickly apologize for my action when I see the look of disapproval she gives for interrupting her, "You said the year is two-thousand fifteen, if you are going by Tevinter Imperium calendar the year is two-thousand twenty-four. It's a few years off, but the era is still Dragon Age. The reaction you've showed me just now leads me to more questions."
"I'm not from Tevinter…" I pause for a moment, "I'm not even from Thedas."
Wynne squint her eyes a little. "If not from Thedas, then which continent are you from?"
Wait a minute, a continent? Thedas is a continent?! I thought Thedas was the world! Oh, shit, I'm in for it. Maybe I should have paid more attention to side stories and world books about Dragon Age…
I take a deep breath. "Maybe I should rephrase. I'm not from this world!"
Wynne blocks my path. I stop walking when I see her hand rising in an offensive position. "Then you are from the Fade."
I shake my head rapidly. "N-No! No, I'm not from the Fade! Shit! How do I explain this?" I bite my lower lip out of nervousness. "Ok…hear me out. How weird would it be if I said that there's a place beyond the Fade?"
She glares daggers at me. Not exactly the reaction I'm looking for. "Do you truly know what the Fade is, child?"
I pull my shoulders close to my neck and stay in that clamed-up position. "I know it's where demons and spirits come from? And then there's something about a Black City and the Maker?" I'm deeply regretting not reading the codex.
"The Fade IS the beyond!" She almost hisses. "This is why we cannot enter physically, because it's the afterlife. It's where our spirits go after death and return to the Maker's side."
"Right," I noted. "Telling you that there's a place beyond the beyond is weird…and insulting." Because who won't be pissed after a crazy person, accidently, insinuated that there's no Maker. "I'm sorry."
"As am I…you are trying to make sense of a strange situation." Wynne returns her hand back to her side. We resume our walking. I slowly trail behind her. The soldiers we pass have grim looks on their faces. The creases on their anxious foreheads are deep enough to be considered dents.
"It seems like everyone is on edge."
"This is because of the forthcoming battle with the darkspawn…"
Wynne shed some light on their current situation, some I already knew. We are in Ostagar, an abandoned fortress south of Ferelden. It's on the outskirts of the Korcari Wilds. The battle everyone is desperately preparing for is against darkspawn. They're tainted and ugly, from what I remember, creatures that have a strong desire for bloodlust. They live in the Deep Roads, enormous underground tunnels built by the Dwarven Empire long ago.
It's not unheard of for darkspawn to escape to the surface, but as of late, they have been attacking in large hordes. King Calian, the current ruler of Ferelden, has already defeated two waves of darkspawn so far. They fear that this wave might be the biggest one yet.
Wynne explains to me that it's unusual to encounter massive numbers of them unless they're suffering from the Blight. One hasn't happen in centuries, and King Calian doesn't believe the darkspawn corrupted an old god. I bite the inside of my cheek at the mention of it.
"After tonight's battle, hopefully everything will be at peace again."
No it won't. In fact, it gets worse.
"Wynne!"
Two middle-age men in long red and brown robes, similar to what Wynne is wearing, are walking towards us. They are accompanied by a Templar.
The elder woman greets them with a nod, "Horrace, Roy, is everything alright?"
"We have a message for you." The man, Horrace, stands tall. His chest puff out and his shoulders look uncomfortably pulled back. His posture is very patronizing, even has his chin and nose pointed upwards.
"And for you alone…" The other mage stares at me with an imitating glare. His tone holds a warning. Wynne and Horrace follow his example and look in my general direction.
I understand their hint, but I’m not exactly sure how to go about it. It makes sense that they can’t leave me alone.
“I…um” I suddenly feel awkward.
She cooperates, "It will not take long, Ellen, but stay close where I can keep an eye on you."
I acknowledge her request with a wave and walk towards one of the tents nearby. She nods in approval before turning her attention back to her peers. I sit on a stump, checking to make there's no poisonous bugs first, and take in my surroundings of the camp.
The air smells of pine trees, mildew, and cool dirt. Inhaling my second deep breath, I notice the air is much cleaner despite the fact that there's smoke. I hear hounds barking from a nearby dog pen, crackling from an open fire pit, and clanking sounds heavy armor makes when a person walks by.
Even with my senses heighten to new sensations it's difficult to accept that I'm here. I believe in theories on alternate universes, but that's stretching it too much for that to make any sense. Dragon Age is a video game. It matters little right now how I got here. I just know I shouldn’t be here.
My fingers fumble and twist my glasses as I ponder on my new thoughts.
Home…what about my home? How do I get back? Is there even a way to get back?
I dread the possibility. What about rent, my job, my family, and my friends? I groan at the mention of friends. Oh shit, my roommate! She and everyone else are going to freak out that I just disappeared off the face of the earth!
In anger, I pop each lens out of their frame sockets. I let out a frustrated sigh when I think of time. How much difference is the time flow here to there? It'll be unrealistic of me to think that time will just stop…
Tears trail down my cheeks.
“No!” I snap. Why am thinking these thoughts!
The anxiety in this unpleasant dream is becoming intense. I need to wake up.
"Oh, she seems preoccupied."
My thoughts shift instantaneously towards the deep and polite voice. I look up to see a man with dark brown hair and blue eyes. His hair is down to his chin, pulled back behind his ears. It's slightly wavy and frizzy. It almost reminds me of morning bed head. Some of his bangs refuse to be with the rest of his hair and hang from his forehead. His jaw is covered in rough stubble and trails up his cheeks. His skin is extremely pale, as if he never stepped outside until now. The man wears blue robes with a small purple cloak draping over his shoulders. Is he another mage?
His has a gentle demeanor that puts me at ease by looking at him. The brown hair man acknowledges me with a sympathetic smile, “Are you well, mistress?
Quickly, I wipe my tears away. “I’m fine." I lied, and switch topic, “Did you need something?"
He taken back with my question, in fact he seems startled.
"Ah, yes." The man pauses for a moment, "I need to talk to an elder of mine. I thought maybe she can help me. I am a little lost, you see."
"Lost? Somewhere you need to be?"
"Actually, I’m trying to find a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. Do you know where he might be?"
I've played Dragon Age Origins enough times to be familiar with Ostagar's layout. I look around for one of the lands marks, the armory. It's located between two paths. One is an incline slope and the other is small set of stairs.
"You're not too far off." I point my finger to a path that has small set of stairs leading to the chalice. "He's that way."
"Thank you." He nods and walks towards the direction. I watch him walk by and then stare at his back. I don't recognize him. But if he's looking for Alistair, it's a high chance that he is the Grey Warden that will slay the archdemon and save Ferelden. From his posture and tone of voice, he's polite, reserved, considerate…and has poor sense in directions. Is he lost already?
The man stop in his tracks twenty feet away and looks around his surroundings. I see a frown on his face.
I shake my head. The confused man needs help. I can’t just leave him like that.
I take a look at Wynne. She's occupied with the mages still, too absorbed in the conversation to pay any attention to me.
After a few inner motivational words, I get up from the tree stump and slowly begin to walk away. I do my best to not let the Templar see me either. The last thing I need is him screaming mad-woman on the loose and I'm thrown in an iron cage or worse…executed.
I make my way to the mage in blue’s side. "Um…do you need any help? I'll walk you to where he is."
He seems embarrassed. The brunette wears a wry smile and his shoulder scrunch up slightly. His blue eye darts towards the dirt ground and his cheeks turn slightly pink.
"I would really appreciate that, actually. You see, I don’t have sense of direction..."
I smile, trying my best not to laugh. "I've noticed," and guide him towards the platform where Alistair should be.
He breaks the ice by introducing himself. "My name is Daylen."
"I'm Ellen."
"Well met, Ellen. I can’t help but to ask. Are you a warrior? I don’t see your weapon on you."
I bit my lip. "Um…no I'm not…" I answer carefully. Short and simple answers should do. I'm not too sure if this guy will run to the authorities.
"It’s not safe for you to wander around without one."
Flashes of fire and darkspawn cross my mind.
He's absolutely right. I should get hold of small sword or bow if I'm ever to have a chance of surviving the darkspawn attacks. But how am I'm going to get a hold of anything is the five sovereign question. I don't exactly have money to buy from a black smith. Stealing is a fuck no. I'm not stealthy enough to pull something like that off, and I shouldn't give them any more reasons to have me locked up. Asking Wynne for a weapon is stretching it. She doesn't trust me, and it won't look good for her detainee to be armed when walking about.
"Don't worry too much." I smile.
He tilts his head. "Forgive my manners, but your clothes are strange. I have never seen anything like them."
My clothes are strange? I look down towards my gray Rolling Stone tank top hiding underneath my black baggy cardigan. My eyes travel lower to my black Aladdin pants covered in red and blue floral patterns. Some are faded from the constant washing. Lastly, my eyes lay on my black low top converse. The white tips are scuff with black marks and dust.
"Where in Ferelden are you from?"
I place my hands in my cardigan's pockets. One of the hands caresses my glasses' temple down to the ear tip piece. I hesitate to answer for a moment, "I'm not exactly from Ferelden. I'm from somewhere far...far away."
I hear a hum from him. "I see...indulge me then, what brings you to the country?"
There are hundred ways I can answer this, unfortunately all of them are ridiculous and crazy. I scoff at my sarcastic answer, "I'd like to think I was recruited to help a great cause."
I quickly change topic when the platform is insight, "Alistair should be up ahead."
Walking upon a scene, which I've seen countless times, is two men arguing. One is a handsome blonde with scruff on his chin, wearing heavy sliver armor with royal blue and grey padding. The armor is supported by many brown leather belts, around his shoulders, chest, and a large one around his waist. The chest plate has a pattern of large bird spreading its wings. He's arguing with a dark skin mage with black hair, who is wearing a rusty red and burnt yellow robe. Or is it burnt orange. I can't tell, because of the late afternoon sun shining in my eyes. Those two colors should never be a combination option in any outfit, but I shouldn't be the one talking with my other worldly fashion.
"What is it now? Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"
Alistair motions his hand. "I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage, she desires your presence."
I watch the argument between the poor fashion sense mage and smartass ex-Templar play out for a moment or two, before I notice Daylen twiddling his thumbs in the corner of my eye. I turn my head and see the uncomfortable look on his face. His eyebrows are pulled together and his thin lips form a frown.
"You ok there?"
Daylen snaps his head to look at me as if I scared him.
“I don’t handle conflict well in my presence." The skittish mage looks back at the scene before him. "The one with the sword...I’m not too sure what to make of him. He makes me...uncomfortable."
"Actually, he's your guy. That's Alistair."
I can see a dent on Daylen's cheek. There is a pause from him. "I...see."
With Daylen being a mage, and Alistair having a Templar background, I can understand why. "You're nervous and I don't blame you. He is an ex-Templar, kind of, but don't let that fool you." I turn to him, "He's a big puppy. Sweet, kind, caring, and loyal to the end." I give him words of comfort.
His eyes soften as I talk about Alistair. I notice him relaxing his shoulders as I continue, "He's...he's definitely someone who you can trust with your life."
Daylen seems convinced as he smiles.
"You sound very sure of yourself, Ellen."
I'd like to think so. I almost never took Alistair out of my party during my first play through. I took every opportunity to have a conversation with him. I can relate to his humor, his idea of justice is similar to mine, and he's so awkwardly charming it's cute. I originally wanted to romance him, but then Zevran happened. I slightly regretted it, but I made up for it during the next two game plays.
Alistair finally speaks when the mage is done ranting on how he is being harassed.
"Here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you...the grumpy one."
I try my best to hold back a laugh, but I let out an ugly snort. Hopefully that wasn't too loud. The defeated mage lets out a frustrated grunt.
"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must!"
He walks away from the Grey Warden and marches toward Daylen and I. The scowl is impressive as Uldred's. His forehead is wrinkled, his eyebrows furrow in a sharp V-shape, and his eyes squint from his nasty glare. I swear I can see his fury steaming out of his ears. The man is on a one way path and I'm not quick enough to step out of the angry mage's way.
"Get out my way, fool!"
He uses enough force in his forearm to shove me aside completely. Because I'm so short, most of the pain is in the shoulder area. I glare at the back of his head as I rub the top of my shoulder.
I want to yell something along the lines of, 'Do they not teach any manners at the Circle?!' but that might offend my new mage friend beside me. I settle with cursing under my breath, "Fucking asshole..."
"Are you hurt?" I hear the worry in Daylen's voice.
I give a quick nod. "No, I'm ok."
"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."
Alistair appears in front of Daylen, and I try my best not to gasp like a fish out of water. His sandy blonde hair is messy and flat from his natural hair oil. His stubble is more noticeable and roguish. Alistair has two small and very faint scars on his right cheek bone. I wouldn't be surprise if his stubble is covering more scars. He also has a fresh cut on his bottom lips, most likely from one of his night fights with the darkspawn. Overall, he is more handsome than the video game lead on.
Daylen's eyebrows knit together. "You are a very strange man."
The blonde warden shrugs, "You're not the first to tell me that." He then pauses and focuses on Daylen's face. I can see the mage's shoulders scrunching up, like he did earlier. I close in the space between us, enough to have my arm brush against his, just a delicate hint that he's not alone.
"Wait," Alistair raise one of his eyebrows, "We haven't met, have we?"
"No. This is our first meeting."
"I thought so, for some-" The blonde cuts himself off midsentence, "Those robes you're wearing…I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"
Daylen nods. "I’m indeed a mage. Why?"
"Really?" The sandy blonde's eyes widen and he pulls his head back. "It's just you don't look like mage?" Realizing his poor choice of words, he quickly tries to recover, "Uh...that is...I mean...how interesting."
I laugh at his attempt. "How smooth."
"Hey, I'm trying to avoid being turned into a toad. It'll be difficult to fight the darkspawn with short arms and legs!"
I shrug. "I don't know. The dwarves do just fine."
Hearing Alistair's laughs makes my heart skip a beat. I feel a physical pain pound against my chest. Take it easy there, heart. You can't gush out on me. I need you to live!
What calms me down is hearing Daylen's small chuckle.
"You must be Duncan's new recruits."
My ears perk up at the last word. Recruits as in plural? No, I'm imagining things. In game, Alistair is expecting one recruit to see him.
The junior Grey Warden frowns. "I apologize that you two had to see that."
Daylen goes about the conversation normally. He shows a shy smile. "Please, do not worry. It is in the past now. My name is Daylen. I am from Kinloch Hold. You are Alistair, yes?" He extends his hand out, slowly. Alistair welcomes his gesture and firmly grabs the future Grey Warden's hand.
"I'm him." He turns to face me. Being taller than the average man, his gaze is forced to look downward to look at little old me, "And you are?"
Before I can introduce myself, Daylen speaks. "You are not acquainted with her?"
Alistair chuckles. "This is the first time we've met. Is there a reason I should know her?"
"She…" He trails off his sentence and this begins to worry me. Daylen's head is tilting to the side and his eyes squint. He's definitely concerned about something.
Realizing his voice fell silent he lets out a small cough and shakes his head side to side. His eyes immediately set back on me. "She spoke very highly of you as if she knew you."
Daylen's words alarm Alistair. His back immediately straightens and he pulls his hand back to his side. His stare hardens, and he wears the same suspicious concern as Daylen.
Daylen's eyebrows scrunch together. "Forgive me. When you spoke about being recruited to help a great cause, I assumed you meant the Grey Wardens. I thought you were a recruit like myself."
The wave of shock consumes me and I'm staring at Daylen wide-eyed.
Shit.
Shit! Shit! Fuck shit!
"How do you know Alistair?"
Great, Ellen, you gotten yourself into ANOTHER situation! You have two options. Option one is telling the truth, but that might put you under the Templars' unmerciful care. That leaves you with option two: you bullshit.
Panic sets in and try my best to have my voice steady, "Oh, well you know. People like to talk and Alistair…he's the biggest attraction!"
Alistair blinks rapidly and tilts his head to make sure what he heard was correct. Daylen does something similar, but shows a concerned frown. The two men share a glance for a brief moment. I mentally slap myself. That's the best excuse I can come up with?! He's the biggest attraction. God damn it, Ellen, you suck!
My explanation becomes more of a ramble. "Well, I mean, not him personally, but him as a Grey Warden. Aren't Grey Wardens you know kinda a big thing? There's not many of you…" Again, I mentally slap myself for my sudden mistake. "YET! There's not many Grey Wardens yet! You're obviously working on that! I'm mean that's why you're here, Daylen!"
"Very smooth," I can see Alistair's smirk growing. "I should take lessons from you."
I stare incredulously at the handsome smart ass. To enhance to my expression, I raise my hands in front of me as if I'm holding something. My fingers curl. I do my best to grip the thin air.
"Ellen, could it be…"
When Daylen begins to speak, my worries grow. I avert my eyes towards the ground and bite my bottom lip. My hands mold into fists and I hold them close to my chest. I wait for the worst.
"That you’re an admirer of the Grey Wardens?"
That...that wasn't what I was expecting. My eyes wander back to the mage's face. His grin stretches from ear to ear, as if he discovered an embarrassing secret.
"Ah…um…" I'm speechless for a moment. "Yes." I swallow the spit that's forming in my mouth and replace it with a pity laugh, "That's exactly it. You found me out! Wow, look how low that sun is!" I point to the sky as I'm taking a few steps back. "I should really get going. I have to get back to Wynne.”
But fail to escape again when Alistair slides to my side.
"Please, allow us to escort you back. I can't have an admirer walking back alone." Alistair is trying his best to hold back his laugh when he emphasized admirer. His teasing makes my cheeks burn from embarrassment.
If hostility of Thedas doesn't kill me, surely Alistair's jokes will.