Disclaimer: In no way do I own the world of Dragon Age or its respective stories. This is a product of fanfiction on which I make no money.
Authors note: I apologize to those that have already read this part in its original format with 125 words, but I was not happy with the vagueness with which I began the story and felt it necessary to expand upon the finer points. So, I hope you enjoy this whether or not you have read it before.
When Anora sent us to the Alienage, the sewage in the streets alone made me glad enough I had been taken from this place when I was so young and given to the Circle. We may have been caged within stone, but at least it was a gilded cage compared to the squalor of dilapidated buildings and cowering shadows. I'd had freedom of choice where they had none. It had almost, almost, made me feel grateful to the Templars.
The sight of mages openly wearing their staffs and wearing oddly decorated robes made me wary, but it was when Shianni told us what had taken place that it should have set off all the alarm bells in my head. It didn't. Instead of being cautious like an intelligent person would have, I approached them, intent on finding out what this spell they used was.
Hessarian's mercy, the "healer" had exclaimed upon seeing me. How long have you been ill, woman? You should have come here days ago!
It had been an opportunity too good to pass up. An I was strong, a mage that fought with steel and magic. There were only a few of them-or so I'd thought at the time. Too many innocents would have been hurt had we engaged them openly, so-despite Zevran catching my arm and trying to quietly warn against my decision-I had acted along with it and allowed them to take me into the hospice…alone. I allowed myself to be led into the snake's nest without so much as a backwards glance.
We could have gone around, should have engaged. The consequences would have been so much less! They identified me as a Warden, overwhelmed me, clapped mana draining chains on me, and dragged me off.
Idiot, hair brained, foolish, foolish child. That's what I am. I endangered the whole of Fereldan for the sake of pride and the lives of a few. How many of those that were spared the initial confrontation that day actually survived to see another day? How many were taken in by the slavers? How many of my companions survived that day? I don't know. I don't know.
Alistair and Riordan are the only Grey Wardens left in the whole of Fereldan. I hope, by the Maker, that they will have more sense than I do. My fate, whatever it may be, is to be decided once the slave ship docks in Tevintar.