Authors Note: The idea for this story game about an unusual way first from a mage robe mod for the PC version of the game, called Queen of Pain by heltsi. The tattoos on it just blew me away so I thought of a story that went along with how my mage acquired them. Second while reading Italian Empress 1985's wonderful story Fate and Forbearance, she got me thinking about just what would an old god do when freed? I recommend everyone go read it! So I thank both of those creators for inspiration and now onto the story!

Disclaimer: Dragon Age: Origins is owned by Bioware. A lot of the characters found in the story were created by them and bless them for all the time they spent making Freledan real. The codex is just wonderful. I write this fanfiction out of love and make absolutely no money from it. :]

Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife,
In the thread of human life.

~ Sir Walter Scott

She had just turned seven, all giggles and smiles. Her red hair was an unruly mess on her head that her mother had long since given up trying to control. "There's no taming that one!" Yelled words that were coated in frustration but filled with love, affection, and warmth. She would just smile and laugh, reaching up to hug her mother's waist the rough fabric of the apron always making her face itch. She had never minded it though. It was merely a cost to be paid to receive the love she sought. There were no bad memories then.

She was seven and a half when she burned the curtains trying to find her doll. So far away but still she could remember the anger she had felt. It churned in her stomach and rushed through her veins when no one seemed to care! Her precious Doll, with the blue patched dress and corn colored hair was MISSING? No amount of tears, yells, or screams seemed to matter to mother or father. It had built up inside her, an ember with tinder rushing to life with the ferocity of her youth. The flames danced from her hands catching the ends of the curtains. They had been an off white color with red roses. Her tears had stopped enough to watch the roses die in the flames. Red to brown to black. Her mother's screams of horror are more distant then the memory of those first flames.

After that incident her mother did not let her hug her. She brushed her away with busy hands and fearful eyes. Her father did not laugh at her antics as he once had remaining too silent to ease her nerves. Even Doll had been singed, marring the once smiling face with a black smudge that no amount of cleaning could get rid of. "It's all right Doll, I still love you." She would croon like her mother used to do when the shadows under the bed scared her. Maybe she had wanted to hear those words as well.

When father let her accompany him into the woods she was ecstatic. He had always said the woods were too dangerous for little girls! So far from the village the farmstead was the only safe place for her. But there she was Doll clutched in her hands and one hand holding onto father with wide eyes that took in the trees looming overhead. He had calluses on his palms. Always working hard for his family and the foundation he was building for his children's children. He was their protection from every threat, outside and within.

She could barely pay any attention to him when he finally started to talk. The red bird in the tree was just too pretty for words, his feathers a darker red than her own hair reminding her of the roses on the curtain. She was able to hear just enough to know that the road followed the stream she could hear but not see, like Chantry bells in the woods. Maybe it is just her wishful thinking but she likes to imagine that her ever steady father's voice had broken when he suggested they play a game. Her eyes had lit up as she expressed her delight saying Doll liked the idea as well. She was to hide and he would find her! She smiled as she hurried away, the slow counting of her father fading into the background. She had burrowed into the hollow of a tree, Doll wrapped protectively in her arms away from the moss and dirt. Her heart pounded with excitement as she forced herself to remain quiet waiting for the sound of her father coming.

She waited there in the hollow of the tree as the sun began to set and fear crawled over her like the bugs all around. Her heart began to beat faster and her breathing became ragged but still she remained silent. Father was just playing a trick, that's all. As the sun set over the canopy something broke inside her. Tears spilled from her eyes and cries racked her body. Father was never in the woods at night. Never. It was not safe even for him. She was alone. He was not coming but her tears did. Unhindered by the restrictions of the game any longer she wept and wailed until her body could take no more. Her red swollen eyes closed as sleep took her.

Normally dreams eluded her, just brief flashes before they slipped away to the waking hours, but not that night. She was crying even in her sleep, her hands coming up to wipe the tears away. There was not much her eyes could see even when the tears had slowed and her vision cleared. Everything was in a haze, like the fog that surrounded her home sometimes before the sun chased it away. Home. Mother. Father. She bit her lip, surprised to feel pain. You weren't supposed to feel pain in a dream? She couldn't think long before something else enveloped her and a presence overwhelmed her senses. It pressed in around her widened eyes. Dark and encompassing. No matter where she looked there was nothing else and when she opened her mouth it seemed to fill her choking back her screams.

There was no sound but the thudding of her heart against her rib cage. Each precious beat ringing in her ears. Something moved inside her, shifted, and then released. She could breathe again though she could still see nothing. "Who are you?" She heard the voice though she did not know where it came from, her small body quivering in fear and shock. It was old, if a voice could sound that old. Older than the Revered Mother who was the oldest person she knew. But even though it was old there was power there. Each word it spoke reverberated in her bones. Her throat tightened around her words as she searched for anything in that darkness. Doll? Where was Doll? Something, anything to hold onto! "Who are you?" It shook her bones more, rang in her head, and she closed her eyes. Wake up and everything would be alright! Everything was a dream. A dream. A dream! She sobbed the words silently to herself, tucking her arms around her knees, and rocking back and forth.

There were stars in the darkness, she noticed, stars that shown like pin points and patterns she could use to play connect the dots. The familiar shapes of flowers, birds, and butterflies soothed her as she focused one by one on each point she saw. When the voice came back she was detached from herself, head resting on her knees, and green eyes staring at the stars absently. "Who are you?" Softer now a mere whisper that ran like a soft caress down her spine. "No one." Even the sound of her voice did not wake her from the lull she had fallen into. It was cracked, hoarse, and so young compared to the ancient bodiless voice. There was a feeling of satisfaction that coursed through her, like the fire had before. No claim. No hindrance. These were not her thoughts or feelings. She wanted to be afraid of them but all she could manage was a soft sigh that fell from her lips.

The stars began to fall one by one. Distantly she made wishes like she was taught, close your eyes and make a wish. Did it matter if she couldn't close them in her dreams? Regardless the wishes came. I want to be home, I want mother to smile at me, I want some cherry pie, and the last most precious wish as the stars fell into place, I don't want to be alone. The flowers were gone and the shape in the darkness loomed large in front of her. Her mouth opened to scream? To cry? But no sound came out. The star pattern grinned at her, long crocked teeth and star filled eyes that seared her soul. Her body shook for her since she could not look away. "I will give you a name." The mouth opened and a sound with syllables escaped in a tongue she had never heard but found she understood. It was guttural almost a roar and very masculine. The name it spoke wove its way into her soul, tearing apart her old one in one fell swoop. It hurt more than when she had fallen out of the tree, a distant memory of pain. This was sharp. This was now! The sound of it filled her up and she covered her ears to try to block it out. She saw the creature coiling in on itself and she was breathless for one moment in time. Then it pounced with starlit claws extending towards her. She screamed as the stars fell onto her body and she was devoured into darkness.

She woke with a start, Doll clutched in her hands. She was wet from the morning dew and her muscles ached from being in one position too long. Her heart pounded furiously from the dream and the memories of the previous day that fluttered into her mind. This was not her home but the hiding place. She wanted to cry but there were no more tears. The dream began to slowly fade into her unconscious mind as the light warmed her skin. When the sun was high in the sky and her stomach grumbled she moved. Her steps were clumsy and held none of the excitement of the previous day. She moved the same way she used to make Doll move when they played. One step then another. She made it to the stream and shortly the road that her father had said was there. Whether it was fate or mere luck there were people on the road, tall men in armor she had seen occasionally at the Chantry. They were a familiar sight and welcome. They were further down the road than her, their backs turned. Panic formed in her stomach as she watched them moving away. Not alone again! Not alone! She did not think raising her hand, the flames catching onto Doll like the curtains in her house. Horror filled her as she cried out, Doll burning now at her feet.

They had seen her, stopping in their trek, and turning around. The Templars passed uneasy glances between them as they approached. A few stayed behind with the elf they had been called to pick up, a young boy from the alienage of Denerim. It was a strange sight. A small girl, her red hair unkempt full of dirt and twigs. Her clothes might have been clean once but now they were stained with mud and grass stains. She only looked up at them helplessly and they noticed the puffiness around her eyes a clear indication of crying. None could see any sign of her parents. Ser Rodyn spoke first, "What is your name, child?" His words were calm and held no hint of some of the worry he felt. She started mumbling something as she fell next to the now charred remains of the doll. Blue to brown to black…like the roses. They almost did not hear her but in a whispered voice made raw from crying they finally caught her name, "Lilith Amell." A tolerable utterance of the name the voice had forced on her.

The first mark was already laid upon her flesh, almost unnoticeable. It was only a few shades lighter than her skin spanning the width of her back near her spine. The Templars had thought it strange for anyone besides the Dalish to tattoo their young but said nothing to the girl. The marking was unfamiliar to them but looked more decorative than anything. They would confer with the Knight Commander when they returned to the Circle.

Somewhere beneath them deep within the earth a dragon god smiled, its plans set in motion, as the darkspawn moved ever closer to its resting place.