Chapter 2: A New World

She couldn't feel her body. Thoughts were slow coming, and when she tried to turn her head, she was hardly bothered it wouldn't budge.

The scene that had supposedly just occurred played in her mind as a half-dream behind her closed eyes like a blurry movie; cut, choppy, and out of focus. But brighter than usual. The images flashed in her head, intense color like sunlight pouring through stained glass.

Her mind was struggling, weighed down, almost tired, as if it had been put through a great strain. She felt similar to how she might after being woken up from a deep sleep, her consciousness not fully awake. But there was a strange edge to how she felt, almost unnatural. Colors and pictures in her mind, though blurry, were more bright, vivid. Stunningly so.

Like her thoughts were more alive, more there. Even when she was mostly dreaming.

Slowly, the color faded and full consciousness started to return to her.

On instinct, she tried to open her eyes, to move somehow, but to no avail. Her consciousness sharpened when she realized she couldn't feel anything, or use any of her senses, even smell. Whether or not she was breathing was impossible to know. Not feeling her own breath or rhythmic rise and fall of her chest scared her. It was a feeling of having no body.

She woke up, her more awake state quickly turning to panic, bringing her back to herself.

First, she felt like she wanted to scream.

Not being able to move does that to you, but she, of course, couldn't.

Her inability to scream only made her want to scream even more.

She couldn't move, she couldn't feel her body. She felt absent of form, like she was floating and nowhere all at once.

For a while, all she did was try to make any sound, any at all, to be able to move or do something somehow, but eventually, she gave up.

It took some time, but she did.

And, as she does in all stressful situations, she cussed in her head, all the worst words she knew.

It worked to calm her down, and after what felt like hours, she had control of herself enough to analyze the situation.

She thought of what she was always told to do as a law student: think fast, act smart, and fucking win. Or, in this case, figure out as soon as possible if you're dead or not.

Her apparent bodilessness was not helping.

Step 1: What the hell is going on?

She ran what she knew through her head as fast as she could.

She was in the car with her sister. They were going too fast. There was a red ghost. She couldn't see. Everything went red. Her sister started screaming. And then-

Everything went black, and after a bit more of hard thinking she could remember a honk, the screeching of wheels, an abrupt stop to the car, her seatbelt digging into her ribs as she flung forward, and then …

Strange nothingness, and the memory of her sister's voice, begging for her to wake up.

It all made sense.

They crashed. They fucking crashed. Meaning, she was either, a) paralyzed, b) dying, c) in a coma, or d) all of the above.

Great. Just fucking fucktastic.

First step when you think you might be paralyzed or in a coma is to, Marie decided, try to move your body until it moves, one way or another, and then get up and slap Cara so hard that blood comes out her nose.

Cara seemed well enough to worry over her when Marie herself was most likely bleeding like a spilt drink on the side of the road. The probability that she was alive made Marie feel a huge wave of relief.

Even if she wasn't ok, at least she wasn't dead.

Getting to her sister and seeing she was okay was all that mattered to her then. So she was going to open her eyes and move, no matter how long it took.

Which then instigated Step 2: move.

Where she could feel the most of herself was right around her brain and head, where nerves tingled when she thought too hard. It was a weak feeling, but still there.

Focusing on spreading the tingling outward, she tried to move it to the beginning of her spinal cord and down her back. She got as far as the top of her neck.

Progress.

Slowly she worked feeling down her neck, and then began on her shoulder area, upper-back, and arms.

Not being able to feel her body was starting to make her panic. What if parts of her just … weren't there? And she was trying to create feeling in an arm that was too injured to be saved; was chopped off and thrown into a hospital incinerator bin, rather than still attached to her shoulder as it should have been?

She took a moment to silently scream to herself, then collected her thoughts and started working on her body once more. Having a mental breakdown wasn't going to help anything. She needed to focus.

For at least an hour, Marie kept her mind clear, only thinking about the tingling sensations of her nerves and spreading them out as far as she could.

A bit more time after that, and she was able to feel her entire body (her hands and feet least of all), her steady breathing, her chest moving up and down with her lungs, and if she focused hard enough, the "bu-bump" of the beating of her heart.

There also seemed to be a comfortable pillow beneath her head, as well as a nice squishy bed underneath her.

A hospital, then, she decided.

She thought, for a moment, about why she couldn't hear anything.

Don't hospitals have those heart monitors that make beeping noises, and shouldn't hers being going crazy right now and alerting the nurses to come and check?

Maybe I'm deaf … she thought.

Better deaf than in a coma-

Realizing her thoughts were entering emotional breakdown territory again, she stopped thinking and focused on trying to open her eyes, when another thought came to her.

There was no light, given that she could see none through her eyelids.

For a moment, she wondered if she was also blind.

Blind, deaf, and paralyzed would just be hell. She hadn't moved a single limb, yet, after all.

Focusing on the blackness from her closed eyelids, she looked for light in a worried frenzy. The thought of being so entirely broken in every way was threatening to shatter her resolve to remain calm.

Slowly, she calmed herself down. Again.

For what must have been an hour, at least, she had not seen nor heard anything. Not a single sound. The feeling in her body was steadily growing, and the air around her seemed to be very cold, but strangely, this did not make her uncomfortable.

She felt cold, but she didn't seem to care.

She wondered if it was because she was covered in the most amazing fabric she had ever worn in her life. Like it was magic fabric, making the cold not bother her. It was smoother than silk, and was probably extremely expensive.

Whatever hospital I'm in, she thought, they must be horrible at properly spending their government money.

For a while longer, she kept working on her body, though still she couldn't move a thing, not even her eyelids.

And then she noticed it … a faint glow?

It was blue, and in the corner of her eye, and was slowly coming closer.

Footsteps.

She could hear footsteps. Many.

Quiet, but there. Sharp and echoing, like they were in a large space with hard floors and walls.

Instantly, she focused on hearing out the steps; the first sound she had heard for hours.

The blue glow was growing brighter and brighter, though slowly, and the sounds of the steps were becoming louder, even though she could tell they were still distant.

By the amount of steps, she concluded it was a group, though small.

Signs of people made her slightly relieved, as did her apparently working ears and eyes.

But the light … and the steps, the way they echoed as if the walls were stone. The circumstance wasn't normal. She couldn't make sense of the situation.

She was starting to doubt she was in a hospital.

There was a single voice that echoed then, close enough that she could tell it was a man's.

But what she heard wasn't English.

What was scarier, however, was that she could tell what he said.

"Check for any that are alive."

It was definitely a man's voice, though gravelly and hard. Commanding. He did not sound friendly.

More importantly, however,

What fucking language is that?!

As well as secondly most important,

And why the hell can I understand it?

Another man's voice simpered quietly, nearer to her than the first's. They were getting closer.

"This … this isn't right. The Elders, to take them like this …"

Wait, I know that word, Marie thought, Hahren … that's elven-

"We're only taking the slaves. Most of their masters are long dead from the rebellion, almost 10,000 years ago, killed in their eternal sleep. They won't be missed," said the first man, his tone sharp.

Slaves?! What the fuck do they mean by "slaves"-

The scared man stuttered, "but … th-they're so old. Trained in the way of the eternal sleep, some having explored the dreaming world for all this time …" he sounded in awe, "like the great nobles and scholars of Arlathan … no regular slaves know the secrets of the beyond as they must …"

Each word passed through Marie's thoughts with no real recognition. Her brain had gone into confused shock right when she heard "Arlathan." What she was hearing … she didn't want to think about. Her only reasoning for the situation was that these people were absolutely insane. But the fact she could understand what was being said, in supposedly Dragon Age Elvhen, she had no logical explanation for. And this scared her into terrified thoughtlessness.

At this point, she was starting to hope she actually was in a coma.

The first man let out a rough laugh that was dry and malicious. It made Marie feel a whole new wave of panic.

When he spoke, his voice was much too close to where she lay, his footsteps having sounded closer and closer. He must have been around fifty feet away, at most.

They were moving fast.

"Even better," he said, "imagine how much they'll sell for! Just one would be worth ten regular batches at least."

He chuckled dryly in sick amusement, his steps coming ever closer. But then they stopped abruptly, and the next he spoke, his voice was low. Mocking.

"Ha. I think I've found one, friends."

By listening to his steps, Marie could tell was coming towards her, though slowly. She heard a low moan from next to her, as if from someone who was struggling to speak, and the act caused them pain.

She felt like she wanted to scream.

"You know what's great, about these old ass slaves?"

In her mind's eye, she could almost see the other man shake his head nervously.

"Well then, I'll tell you," he said, his voice rumbling in his throat, "you see …"

There was a loud "thwap!" noise, and then a pained groan in response.

"I can do whatever I want to 'em."

There was another "thwap!" and a pained groan, louder than before.

"I can hit 'em."

A "thwap!" and then a groan.

"Cut 'em."

The groan was a cry this time, though still muffled, as if the person's mouth was gagged.

"Even fuck 'em, if I want."

The man laughed again, "all because of the binding charm. Master asleep, can't move. Master dead, half-awake, but still can't move. They can never run away."

"Imagine laying around for millennia, not able to move or speak. Forever bound to your master, even after their death," he sighed wistfully, "It's almost pitiful."

He was still laughing from right beside Marie. She was in full-on panic. Marie's heart was beating fast, echoing in her ears. Her mind was blank, too many thoughts screaming in her head all at once. Her fight or flight instincts were sending adrenaline through her body, making her want to run, yet she couldn't.

One thing was for sure, though. She wasn't in a hospital.

She wanted to get up and run.

She had to go … she had to get away!

And once again, frantically she tried to move, to somehow escape.

But, of course, her body didn't respond. She tried again and again and again.

But still, she couldn't move.

She couldn't get away, and that realization made her want to scream.

Only a whimper escaped from her mouth.

The laughing ceased, "oh … what do we have here?" she could hear his voice turn in her direction, "another one? So soon?"

A whimper escaped from her again in her fear. She was going to die. This was it. She didn't even want to think about the implications of what he said or her situation. He was dangerous, and if she didn't get away ...

The voice across from her let out a muffled sob.

"And a woman at that …"

A callused hand touched her cheek. It moved down her face to her neck. She felt the hand wrap around her neck, and then another move down the other side of her face till it went to her chin and a thumb pulled on her bottom lip. It tugged at her chin, pulling forward her head limply, opening her mouth. Hot breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't scream.

All she could do was whimper, waiting.

Nothing had ever been so terrifying in her entire life.

"Sir …" said the other man in a frightened whisper, "the … products … I don't think … I don't think the buyers would like them … used like that-"

The hands left her, her head falling back into the pillow, rolling onto its side.

"And so what if they wouldn't?" he snapped.

Marie's head thrummed in pain at his yell, close to her ear.

"The slaves could … tell of how they were treated. It would lower our reputability …"

There was a long silence. Marie could hear nervous shuffling a ways in front of her.

The man who had grabbed her let out a long sigh, "Fine," he ground out.

Marie heard him straighten, and walk away.

"Viren, wait for No-Balls over here to knock them out, and then bag 'em. These two right now, and then we'll come back for more. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." said a new man, farther away than the other two.

Marie heard shuffling steps coming towards her, along with the blue glow from before, which grew closer as the steps did the same.

A resolute panic came over her then.

She was completely in their control. All she could do was wait.

"Oh, and No-Balls, heal that one up. He's bleeding all over his pretty gown. Losing good money."

"Ye-yes, sir."

With that, she heard loud steps moving away as the leader walked back the direction they came.

A soft green light shined over the blue from next to her for a few moments. She heard the second man say a few soft words, though what he said was inaudible. The quiet whimpering from the person across from her halted. A violet light shined then, for a few moments and then faded gently out. The person went completely silent.

She heard the shuffling steps now coming towards her, the blue glow growing brighter with each step.

"I carry only fire of the beyond. I will not hurt you," said the voice of the jittery man, though he now sounded surprisingly serene.

Strangely enough, at these words, Marie felt unnervingly relieved.

"Be calm," he whispered.

The same, soft violet glow filled her vision, and she felt her fear ebb away. Her thoughts slowed, her soft whimpering ceased. Her body relaxed.

Inexplicably, she felt at ease.

"Fen'Harel's blessing, Hahren."

She felt a kiss on her forehead, feather light.

He wasn't hurting her. She didn't know why.

"I cannot assist you as of now, but know, all slaves will be free. You will be free."

The name "Fen'Harel" registered briefly in her slowing thoughts for a moment, and then the name "Solas," but the realization died quickly. Her body was beginning to feel heavy, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She felt something, like fine paper, be pressed into her palm.

"Rest now, Honored Elder, and know that Fen'Harel is with you."

Her slowing train of thoughts ceased, blackness taking over the soft blue glow, and with those gentle words, Marie fell into a dreamless slumber.

Soft velvet under her neck, cold sheets.

A sweet smell, like perfume, but subtle.

She groaned. She didn't want to wake up.

Five more minutes …

"Lethallan …"

What-?

She felt a light touch on her arm.

"Lethallan, ryn thena …"

What … did she say?

She opened her eyes, and turned her head towards the voice, the person beside her most obviously not human.

Her ears were pointed, like those of an elf, and huge, sticking out from her head quite obviously, but in an elegant, unearthly beautiful way. Her eyes were a bright purple, her hair dark black, and everything about her seemed … surreal.

Marie jumped up out of her bed, back against the wall.

"Atisha." said the elf woman, showing her empty hands as a universal sign of peace.

Marie's eyes darted in every direction, taking in her surroundings. She was in a long, thin room, though ornate and elegant. The walls seemed to have designs encrusted in gold, the floors a glossy marble. Lamps of blue fire lit up the walls, and when she looked a little harder, she saw a door on the far end, unguarded, no one to stop her.

She ran.

She was breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through her body.

It felt like a moment ago that she was frozen in place, unable to save herself.

Now that she could move, nothing was going to stop her.

She was going to run until things seemed normal. Till she could find something recognizable. Something safe.

She banged open the door, leaving the elf yelling behind her.

She ran down the hall, as fast as she could, running into a few yelling and shocked elves as she went.

The hall was long, but there was a double door at the end, two guards standing at attention.

They saw her, and started shouting.

A spear of ice was flying towards her from her side, and noticing it just in time, she flicked her wrist instinctively. An invisible shield sprung up around her, the ice shattering against it.

Her thoughts reeled. What just happened-

She ran even faster.

There was a small room to her left, a kitchen. She knocked into many screaming elves, and one actually tried to grab her, but she whipped her arm to the right, a great whip of fire lashing out as she did so.

The elf screamed and clutched their burnt arm.

Marie tried to run even faster.

She pushed and shoved at anyone one that got in her way. Elves were screaming and yelling, some rushing off, probably to get guards.

She had to hurry.

Her skin tingled, and she knew, somehow, something was rushing at her from behind.

She flicked her wrist again, still running, and heard whatever it was crash against her shield, making a huge impact of sparking electricity bounce off the walls and towards all around her.

It was shocking, how big of a burst the impact made, almost as if the shield amplified the effect. Electricity sprang to every corner of the room, from one body to the next, harming everything it could reach, except her.

Making it through the next door that was across the kitchen, she ran into a great hall.

Guards, in the all too familiar golden body-tight armor she knew far too well, were running at her with swords and pummels from the right.

She ran to the left.

The hall was huge, with a glass ceiling and stone pillars reaching up and arching over, giving the place the feeling of a massive cathedral.

Side paths ran behind the pillars, and Marie, looking for a way free of people, ran down to the nearest one and towards two more great double doors now suspiciously unguarded.

That didn't make sense. Why would they be unguarded? If they were trying to stop her, wouldn't there be people blocking the doors?

She kept running, with no one trying to stop her; no ice flying in her direction or grabbing hands.

She was almost at the great doors when an elf servant stepped out of her way, letting her pass.

Strange.

Her brain caught up with herself, and she took a split second to study her surroundings, slightly slowing her pace.

A white glint flashed in the corner of her eyes, and when she snapped her head in its direction, an outline of a clear, shimmering, armored body disappeared as quickly as she spotted it.

But she was too late to react, and right as she turned to run in the opposite direction, two guards appeared out of thin air, their bodies manifesting before her, blocking her way.

One grabbed her by the arm and pushed her down to her knees by the shoulders, a hand shoving her forehead to the floor.

She gasped for air as she fell.

No no no no, HELP-

"Telas vena revas."

But this time, she knew what the words meant, the phrase rushing through her head, her thoughts scrambling to understand anything; to gain leverage she didn't have.

You cannot escape.

A familiar violet glow emanated around her, closing in on her vision. She felt her eyes slowly start to close, her body feel heavy.

The armored hands left her body to fall to the ground. She rolled onto her back, her head rolling until she was looking straight up, struggling to keep her eyes open with all her strength.

They were watering. She was sure she was crying.

A pale face looked down at her, dark hair falling from underneath his hood, his eyes a murky green. Red markings were drawn on his face, harsh and strong as they curved and swirled, accentuating the sharp lines of his face.

She recognized the markings. So familiar yet … too real.

They shouldn't be real … none of it should be.

But it was. Everything was. And she couldn't escape.

Again.

Her vision was blurring and she could feel tears streaming down her cheek and chin.

The armored elf kneeled down, slowly wrapping an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders.

"Prepare a cell," he commanded to a guard on his right as he lifted her, who bowed and walked away, the wrest of the guards dispersing.

Marie understood what he said this time, easily, without thought.

She tried to struggle, weakly writhing her body in his arms.

"Let … let me," she fought to keep her eyes on his, clenching her teeth as she spoke, "Let me go …"

Her words were foreign and strange as she spoke them, her brain recoiling, trying to make sense of what she said, even though she knew.

"I am sorry, Hahren," he placed his armored hand on her forehead, violet pulsing from his fingers. She hissed at the feeling of cold medal.

"You fought well."

She fell asleep, again. Dreamless, like before. Sad green eyes the last thing she'd seen.

When she woke up, she was in a cell. A nicely decorated cell, but a cell nonetheless.

Compared to what she had seen as she was running around, flinging magic (apparently) in all directions, it was actually quite shabby.

But everything is shabby, compared to all that glass and stone and unnecessary bling.

A floor shouldn't be made of polished marble and gold. That's just retarded.

Also, it's hard to run on. Not enough friction.

Stupid video game elves.

She had accepted that, in all probability, this was some strange dream or reality based in Dragon Age. It was the easiest explanation, anyway. She felt strangely calm about it, in a weirdly stable feeling of acceptance. She briefly wondered why she wasn't freaking out.

But then again, she thought, easier to not think about it.

She got up and stretched her back, which cracked rather disgustingly.

Every joint in her body seemed to be cracking horribly, actually.

She looked around her tiny hotel room/jail cell. There was a nice embroidered stool, a small desk with paper and some sort of strange writing utensil, a nice, person-long mirror, and a weird glowing rune thing on the wall that made her head ache when she stared at it too long.

Huh. Magic. Of course.

Nothing was surprising her by this point.

If elves are real, especially Dragon Age elves, then magic is just an added bonus.

She looked down on the small carpet she had woken up on. They gave her a stool, a desk, things to write with, a mirror with more inlaid gold than could ever be considered appropriate, but they couldn't give her a bed?

That's just plain mean.

She huffed.

Elves. Master Race, my ass.

She was dressed in rather fashionable prisoner clothes, which were very snuggly warm, even if they looked like overrated pajamas, and were a bit too tight for her liking.

She walked over the mirror, mentally preparing herself for she might see when she looked.

And thank god she did.

Her ears were pointy as, well, an elf's, and she looked like Princess Zelda reborn, but with blonde hair, and way more angry.

And hell, was she angry.

There was nothing she recognized. Everything was different, except her eyes. She had been a regular weight before, but now she felt stick thin. Dainty, even. It wasn't that she looked anorexic, but her whole body looked smaller. Her shoulders weren't as broad, her hips not as wide, her thighs much skinnier, and she was pretty sure her boobs had lost at least two sizes, compared to her size D before.

And her face. Her face … was completely different. It was much more thin and sharp. Fierce looking, actually. And that matched with her blazing Glare-Of-Death she was using to try and mentally burn her reflection made her look rather terrifying.

At least her hair was still dirty-blonde, and her eyes the same redish-brown.

That didn't rectify the fact she was an elf, however, or the fact she wanted to break every object in sight. Or that magic was actually a thing. And Dragon Age was never just a video game, but a whole separate reality.

A heads up woud've been nice. Maybe she could've had a convenient vision from God like Moses. "Oh, by the way, I made Thedas, too. And elves. They're all real. And I'm going to poof you there in a couple days. LOL #fckyouMarie."

She laughed despite herself.

If this was some sick joke, it wasn't funny.

There was no other explanation she could come up with except Dragon Age. The vacuum tight armor was enough by itself, but the language … that couldn't be anything but ancient Elvhen. And she would know, since she had been trying to teach herself the basics before she had gotten into this whole mess.

And the magic. She was fairly sure she'd done a couple tricks or two. Thinking about how was too complicated, so she settled with the explanation that it was just a fluke, caused by her attaining her new elf-body. Not that she would be complaining if she could learn how to use it sometime. Maybe hunt down that guy who molested her back when she, as she presumed, first ended up in this world, taking advantage of her inability to move or see. He was fucking sick. She made it a personal goal to whack him with some fire in the face.

Always the pragmatist.

She was busy thinking and mumbling to herself about her insane predicament when a small elf women had quietly walked to right outside the cell's bars. She was looking at Marie with an intimidated expression, probably worried about Marie's state of mind. She guessed talking to yourself wasn't normal in ancient Elvhenan either. Marie couldn't blame her for being worried. She was already considering she had, for once and for all, actually gone insane.

At least that explanation was simple.

"Yes?" Marie asked, ignoring how the hell she knew how to speak Elvhen.

She vaguely remembered doing so before when she was captured during her attempted escape, but the memory was fuzzy.

The woman had red-branching vallaslin she immediately recognized as Mythal's. Interesting. She was pretty sure the guard who knocked her out had something different. She definitely remembered some type of design on his face, and its general shape.

She snorted. Her geeky knowledge was actually useful now.

The woman bowed deeply, her voice pitchy and wavering, "Hahren! Excuse the intrusion, but I must prepare you for your new master."

Master. Master. If that meant what she thought it did-

"It is of the utmost urgency!" the woman continued, "the trainers are not patient, and they are looking foreword to working with someone of your caliber."

What.

"The trainers -?"

The woman nodded vigorously, standing up from her bow, "yes, Hahren! You've been bought, you see. Sorry, I probably should have started with that first …"

Bought. She'd been bought.

Hell. No.

When she spoke, her voice was biting, " I've been bought?"

She understood that the ancient elves were into slavery, but if she just happened to be so lucky as to not only magically arrive in Thedas and, as far as she could tell, Elvhenan, but also be pulled into the slave trade, one of the most infamous and focused on parts of the entire series, she would scream. Or maybe not. But she'd definitely want to.

The woman bowed again, "yes, Hahren."

"Well then," she started pacing, jaw clenched, "who has bought me, exactly?"

"You've been accepted into one of Elgar'nan's palaces as a sentinel. One near Arlathan itself, I believe. Specifically chosen by one of the head priests." She shuffled her feet, "you are very lucky."

Marie halted her pacing and turned her glare towards the woman. She made a small startled noise in response.

"Explain."

"E-explain what-?"

Her first clenched as she felt anger at her situation. Being dumped into another but mysterious means was one thing, but this

"Everything."

After a long hour, Marie had decided she interrogated the poor woman long enough. Supposedly, she was some great warrior, as all "sentinels" should be, and this "head priest" of the palace thought she'd be perfect for a high-ranking position. She also learned, gleaning from some of the strange comments the woman said, she was really old. At least her elf-body was. The woman had heard rumors in the servants' quarters that she was found by tomb raiders looking for some valuable slaves, and that Marie must be very ancient, since slaves haven't been aloud to learn the way of Uthenera for thousands of years.

She decided she'd think about that later. Or maybe never. Sure as hell not when she was in the process of becoming a slave to some Eternal Fire Overlord and his lackey, both of which shouldn't even be real.

Priorities.

Marie let her proceed with what she had come for, which was, as she later found out, to do her hair and makeup and squeeze and buckle her body into armor that looked much to similar to a sentinel's for her liking, but with less pretty designs and no cape.

Sadly, also lacking in knee-faces.

When she looked at herself in the mirror after, she wished she didn't. She looked like character pulled from the game. Directly. She was holding on to her own identity by a thread, the few physical similarities all she had, and seeing herself look so foreign, so like an elf, shocked her into reality more than anything else had.

This was real. What was happening was real. And she had to find someway to take control of her situation, but she had no idea where to start.

She was on her way to working for a tyrannical god, and she had no idea what to do.

Going along with it seemed so much more safe. So much more simple. This was a world she didn't know, and all she felt like she could do was be dragged along, and hope an opportunity to escape or be whisked away back to her ownworld would present itself. Somehow.

What a horrible plan. Sit around and hope something good happens.

Knowing herself, she probably wouldn't stick with it. She's never just sat back and let life beat her up, even when she wanted to.

"Hahren, we should be going now. A sentinel has come as your escort to the palace. We've already kept him waiting for so long …"

Marie sighed, "Yes, of course."

They made their way out of the cell and up stairs to the higher level, back to the great hall where she was prevented from escaping last night.

Various servants she recognized running into were glaring at her bloody murder, some limping ones giving her looks like she was the bane of their existence. She couldn't blame them. Her random magic usage was pretty epic. Not like she'd have any idea how to do it again, but still. Epic.

As they walked, she tried to ignore the extreme splendor of the place she hadn't truly absorbed as she was running for dear life previously. Trees grew inside, winding themselves up around great stone pillars, statues of dragons and dragon-women she recognized as meant to represent Mythal lining the walls. The entire ceiling was glass, and great mosaics made up the floor, gold and crystal inlaid into almost every surface.

It was so beautiful, it was on the verge of nauseating.

Guards were eying her through their hoods, some with their hands rested on their weapons as if waiting for her to attack or make another attempt at escape.

She wondered how they moved so fast in their incredibly tight armor of theirs.

Her thighs were chafing, and it was not fun. The armor made her legs look like overgrown chicken wings. An acquired taste, she guessed.

Elvhen fashion turned out to be a little more than bizarre, verging on the side of just plain stupid, especially when she noticed a rather annoyingly pompous-looking elf wearing what seemed to be dragon horns on her head like a hat.

She hoped they were fake. But, after brief consideration, she decided they probably weren't.

Disconcerting.

Looking more closely at the guards as they passed, she noticed they all had some version of Mythal's vallaslin, as did many of the elves she saw wondering the place.

Actually, what place was this? Assuming vallaslin is a sign of slavery, why would there be so many slaves in one area, and all Mythal's, for that matter.

They were almost at the entrance. She decided to ask while she could.

"Lethallan?" Marie asked.

Once again, her nerdy knowledge had come in handy.

"Yes?"

"What is this place? I recognize the vallaslin of Mythal, but nothing else. I am curious."

She silently thanked law school for teaching her to be so good at bullshitting. It's practically an art.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked!" she clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "This is a place of judgment. Not quite a temple, though. It is only for judgment, not worship. Any citizen who feels they have been wronged can come here and pray to the Well of Truth. If Mythal deems them and their cause worthy, she speaks to them in a dream, and agrees to kill their enemies and bring justice. If they are untruthful, however, and ill-intended or the wrong-doers themselves, she kills them silently in a dream instead, as is justified." She smiled at Marie, "I am very proud to serve Her and Her cause."

That was a little more complicated than Marie would've liked, though very interesting. "This is just a glorified court house but without the court" would have been a nicer response.

One thing, out of all the other things, she didn't understand though, is why she had ended up there in the first place.

"And how did I get here? I wouldn't think a place of justice to be suitable for slave trade."

"Oh, um, you are a special case, actually," responded the woman while she fidgeted with her hands, "I had heard rumors of a kind man insisting we take you in, as well as another, so that you would both be treated well. Lucky, you are. Unheard of for slave traders to ever be so considerate."

She recalled a kind voice, telling her she would be free. The only kindness she had found in such a terrifying situation.

If that was the man who had brought her here, she was grateful. She had gotten better treatment than she might have expected, having learned about American slave trade in school.

But she had this nagging feeling that he wasn't a slave trader at all. She remembered him saying something about Fen'Harel …

If Fen'Harel is alive now, then Solas is alive, and that means Solas is a real person.

Holy shit.

"Solas …"

The woman looked at her curiously, "pardon?"

She smiled reassuringly, "apologies. I was deep in thought."

"Oh, of course."

They arrived at the entrance, two guards eying them incredulously.

"This her?" one asked. He sounded rather disdainful. If he was aloud to, she wondered if he would have spit on her.

She bet he was one of the guards who were chasing her from before. She hoped some of her accidental magic had been flung his way in the process. He seemed like an ass.

"Yes. Is the escort ready?"

The guard scoffed, "only has been for around two hours."

So they're immortal, and impatient.

The woman then went into a spiel of apologies for their lateness. The guard seemed unimpressed.

Eventually, after she was done harassing him with sentiments, he placed his hand, glowing with some spell, on a section of the closed doors. Green light ran in extravagant patterns engraved into the stone of the doors and in-between where they were sealed shut. A great lurching noise made her slightly jump where she stood, as they began to move by their own volition, opening to reveal a great courtyard. A pool of water stood proudly at the end of the yard, up high on raised ground with steps leading to it, eerily similar in appearance to the Well of Sorrows from the Temple of Mythal quest. A series of many tall mirrors (or, as Marie decided, eluvians) surrounded the pool from the back, and it was a very beautiful sight. It was obviously less extravagant than the temple depicted in the game, as it wasn't an actual temple itself, but seeing such a similar looking area as she had run around with her Inquisitor in on the screen of her little laptop was amazing.

Like it was fantasy brought to life, the whole concept of her situation sinking in more than before.

The developers were more accurate in their depiction then they could have ever realized.

They continued to walk through the courtyard and up the steps, slaves giving them skeptical looks as they paused their tending to the gardens.

Once they made it up the steps, her thighs were so sore from all the skin-tight metal chafing she wanted to punch something.

She briefly wondered how Solas could have been wearing the same thing in Trespasser, while looking so calm and in control. But then again, he also told her Lavellan that he was going to destroy the entire world with little more than a kind-of-sad face and one really big frown.

That guy is hard-core.

She started shaking her legs, trying to separate skin from metal.

She looked a bit like a jittery chicken, her arms making weird movements as she wiggled her legs.

A rumbling chuckle made her look up in surprise.

"Ah, the next great sentinel of my division," said a man in decorative sentinel armor, red designs carved into the metal and a white cloak and hood, golden and red thread twisting and turning in sharp patterns. He bowed his head with a grin, "honored."

She blinked at him, and then scowled. He had the same murky-green eyes as the "guard" who'd been the one to restrain her and push her to the ground. He had the same vallaslin as well, as far as she could remember. It was red and sharp and curving, a startling contrast to his jovial expression. She supposed it must be Elgar'nan's. She had only ever given her Lavellans Mythal's and June's vallaslin, so she wouldn't know.

"Had no one taught you the spell to refit your armor?"

"Oh no! I thought she knew!" said the woman as she scurried over to in front of Marie and placed a hand on both her shoulders. White light ran along her armor, curving and molding itself to her body instantly.

If only she did that half an hour ago.

Think of a good excuse. Think …

"In my time," she squared her shoulders, "I had subordinates to refit my armor for me."

Do slaves even get servants?

He quirked an eyebrow, "yes, of course. As would be expected."

She nodded as sagely as she could manage, "Indeed."

That sounded so retarded.

The woman coughed awkwardly.

"And you are Ilaana, correct?"

I am?

"She is! I'm sorry for our horrible tardiness. She had so many questions and I thought it only right-"

"Wait," she gave the woman a hard look, "how do you know that name?"

Ilaana. The exact name she had given her Lavellan Inquisitor. She had thought the name felt right, having resonated with her in a way when she had picked it out, but it being the exact same of whoever's body she was in seemed too much of a coincidence.

"Oh, well I just assumed- if that isn't the name you prefer …"

The sentinel gave Marie a smile. Controlled. Almost fake. His eyes seemed to be a bit too focused on her for her liking.

"If what our benefactors said is true, then you are well-versed in the realm of The Dreaming. Your name would have been engraved into your wresting place, I would assume, to mark you separate from the others. Unless I am mistaken? I do not know much, myself."

His eyes were piercing, his mouth only barely in a smirk.

He was testing her. There was no proof that he truly knew anything. But he noticed her strange behavior, and he wanted to root it down to its source.

She smiled at him, making sure to bare some teeth.

"A name is but a name to most, Da'len. I have had many, most of which none but I remember. Certain names hold weight, however. Purpose. Meaning. Forgive me if I am startled. I had not hoped to hear it again."

Perfect. Just pompous and mysterious enough to actually be believable. She silently thanked Solas for teaching her the art of lying "only by omission." This was her new version of "I saw it in the fade."

His eyes softened, became more remorseful. His smile was genuine, this time. Sad.

He believed her.

"My deepest apologies, Hahren. I meant no offense."

She gave him a slight nod in recognition.

The woman made a soft squeak of a noise, fidgeting with her hands. "How old are you?"

Marie made a point to chuckle and let out a longwinded sigh.

"Very."

Twenty-five, actually.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself," said the man, trying to change the subject.

Marie snorted, "none of us have. But I, evidently, didn't need to."

"I'm Hallana!" intervened Hallana (apparently).

He grasped his hands behind his back, adjusting his posture, "Ethvir, First Sentinel of the First Division of Palace Elgara'Ena."

That literally meant almost nothing, but Marie smiled in approval anyway.

"Impressive."

He gave her a polite nod in return, "as, I suspect, you must be as well. Though you must be considerably weakened from your incredibly long slumber, of course."

She remembered the woman telling her about how amazing she must be; how old and wise. Her magic wasn't subpar before, as far as she could tell, since she did manage to hold her own, but the amount of experience and knowledge she would need have to have to be able to be a sentinel matching up to all her expectations was something she knew was impossible for her to fake. She had to come up with an excuse … something believable. Pitiful, maybe. Something too sad or personal to question …

She took a long and shaky breath, looking down as she did so. "In more ways than one, I am sorry to say."

He gave her a puzzled look, having politely not spoken up so she could continue.

"Memories are a fickle thing in the Land of The Dreaming when not dealt with properly." She thought of her inability to move, to see, to feel. Surely, that state was not usual to most waking up from Uthenera. And then she remembered the cruel voice, delighting in her inability to move, to escape, like it was some sweet delicacy he wished to savor. No, it mustn't have been usual at all.

"My spirit was … abused." Tears welled up at her eyes, not fake, but real. Her sentiment of being abused was real. "I do not know how, and I do not know why-" she paused for a moment to recollect herself, "but it is, in fact, the case. I do not know why I am here, how I am here, and what I was before. I cannot begin to tell you how terrifying-"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, the pressure comforting, even if it was light over her armor.

"I am sorry." Hallana whispered, her eyes well up with tears as well.

Somewhere, deep in Marie's heart, she felt a pang of triumph. It was easy to manipulate, and it always gave her a feeling of strange power over others. At times, it would scare her, her joy in others being as simple as pawns in her hands.

A shaky sigh escaped her lips, from both her sadness and her realization that even when all she knew was ripped away from her, she still took joy in manipulation. It made her want to be sick.

"Ilaana," said Ethvir, giving her a look of sadness and empathy, "I understand."

Meeting his eyes, she almost wanted to believe he did.

He began to walk forward and around the well, gesturing for them to follow. Hallana gave her a light nudge in his direction, and they walked with him towards the eluvians.

They stopped towards the one right from the center, golden ornamental rays of sunlight stretching out from its frame.

"Here, we take our leave," said Ethvir. "I will inform my superiors of your condition and try, to the best of my abilities, to make your situation accommodable for your wellbeing. But," he gave her serious look, more pitiful than before, "I cannot promise anything. Elgar'nan is stern in his way, and so are his followers."

Marie felt her intense worry come back to her. She had almost forgot just who she was becoming a slave to. The kindness of Ethvir was unexpected, and, in all likelihood, unusual. What she had found while playing the Trespasser DLC, particularly from one worrying codex, Elgar'nan was not a master a slave would ever wish to have. The general Dragon Age fandom seemed to hate him well enough, even with such little given lore about his corruption. But what was given, even in just a few codexes, was adequate for him to be viewed as irrevocably evil by most fans.

There was a codex, Marie recalled, describing him sacrificing slaves in a blood ritual to engrave himself into a mountain. Each one dead, just so he could have a goddamn statue-

She shuddered.

Ethvir, having noticed her worry, spoke up, "you must have learned of Him in your travels of the Dreaming. An expression like that says as much."

She nodded slowly. Saying anything out of line might be dangerous. "I have, though not as much as you might think."

"Though enough?" he said, in a way more like a statement than a question.

She met his eyes, her expression forced neutral. "Yes."

He gripped her by the shoulder, his voice soft, yet confident. Reassuring.

"Strength has gotten you far. Hold onto it. A strong will is not so easily broken."

Marie wondered briefly why he was being so kind. And how, with his seeming lack of corruption, he had risen to such a high rank as he did; a leader among slaves. She decided to be careful. Not everyone is ever truly as they seem, especially her.

He released her, and then turned to the mirror, waving a hand over its surface. Blue light sprung from its glass, rippling and pulsing like water.

"Before you leave," interrupted Hallana, as she took Marie's hand and placed a small piece of paper into it. She recognized it by touch, remembering a similar event when a different hand had placed it into hers, a voice whispering of freedom.

She looked down at it, and unfolded it carefully in her palm. Two parallel rows of slanted eyes, three each, were drawn in black ink, so careful the design that it was evident they were drawn with great care.

Below were two sequences of foreign symbols. Words. She stared at them, the symbols appearing in her mind's eye, their corresponding sounds coming to her slowly, eventually forming words, a phrase she could understand.

Fen'Harel Enansal

Fen'Harel's Blessing

She folded up the paper quickly, her heart thumping in her chest.

"I do not know who this Fen'Harel is," said Hallana, "but the paper seemed important. You gripped it in your hand as you slept. I kept it for you, in case it was of any value."

She doesn't know who he is? But how-

Marie looked up at Hallana. Her expression was honest, empathetic even. No, she didn't know.

The rebellion-

The voice replayed in her thoughts once again, clear and sharp, his tone empowered. Confident.

"All slaves will be free."

She remembered his voice, unwavering. His promise to her of freedom, even as he put her to sleep, sending her off into slavery.

He sounded so sure. Like he had credit behind his words; assurance that there would be a fight, and the slaves would win.

The rebellion. It's not just some fantasy; some storyline of a make-pretend world.

It's real.

And it's starting.

"Hahren?" said Hallana, her expression worried.

She was staring at the folded paper in her palm, her expression hard and thinking.

"Sorry, I-" she closed her eyes for a moment, regaining her composure. "Yes, it is important. Thank you."

She looked up and towards Ethvir, who was staring at her, his gaze critical.

There was a brief flash in his eyes; something akin to shock. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he followed it with a respectful smile, as if he had noticed nothing.

He stepped to the side, extending his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"

Marie smiled in return, interlocking their arms together.

Hallana said goodbye, waving vigorously, saying they must see each other again sometime. Maybe in The Dreaming.

Together, Marie and Ethvir stepped through the eluvian, the magnificence of The Crossroads rising before them, once again the magic of Elvhenan shocking her into silence.

Everything was beautiful. Beautiful and wrong. Like it shouldn't be real. Like it was too perfect to exist.

But it did. It all did.

Dragon Age was no longer a video game.

It was real. Tangible. Magical.

And Marie was thrown into it, for better or for worse.

Into a new life. A new world.