I'm taking a brief moment to answer draupadi's question:
I don't want to give too much away for what I have planned, but simply put, yes.
Dragon Age and all affiliated ideas and characters belong to Bioware and Electronic Arts.
With a childlike wonderment that seemed lost to Rhyann over the last months, she followed Lyna through the mammoth estate. She had never seen anything quite so lavish, or so well-decorated. What little bits she retained about Arl Urien's estate was stained, both mentally and literally, by the blood she shed, or that her aggressors had. This, however, it was entirely different. The paintings adorning the walls like fine pearls about the necks of noblewomen seemed so lifelike—one such painting gave Rhyann the impression that she could just jump into it and end up in the lovely, sun-kissed meadow it was depicting. The aroma of the estate was something she was otherwise unaccustomed to as well. When she passed a table, the woodsy scent of the Elfroot blossoms in the vase would greet her nostrils, but merely feet away, a more savory aroma of roasted duck and root vegetables would overpower her in the best possible way. She had never been to a human's home until the business on her wedding, and this was definitely giving her the impression that most of them lived in the lap of luxury.
In her daze of wonderment, the young elf completely lost track of Lyna. The estate was so monstrous that she had no idea where the Dalish woman could have wandered off to. Every second, the already-daunting halls seemed to stretch and twist in a frightening fashion. The ceilings were climbing higher up the walls, as if they were ivy reaching for the sun. Rhyann blinked, and then rubbed her eyes, feeling her tiny heart rapping against her ribcage desperately. Her breathing sped up to a slight hyperventilation as she tried to make sense of this irrational fear she was feeling quite suddenly. Some servants started to swarm around her as she panicked; the brave ones asked about her health cautiously, though none dared to venture close enough to touch her. Almost suddenly, the miniscule elf plummeted to the cold stone flooring, her exposed knees becoming scraped in the process. Self-control was lost to Rhyann as she collapsed onto the ground, her head hitting the hard stone flooring in the process.
When she woke, Rhyann couldn't discern how long she had been out for. Her thin fingers explored the side of her face and head, where one of Vaughan's friends had hit her just earlier. There wasn't a lump, or any bleeding, so that was a plus. Once she was sure that she was okay, the girl scanned the room: Shianni was comforting the bridesmaids and Valora, but it seemed to be for naught—Nola kept repeating the Maker's prayer over and again, as if no one was present. It only took a moment for Shianni to notice that she had woken; she left her post and cupped her hands over Rhyann's bony shoulders in a worried fashion.
"You're awake. Thank the Maker. You've been passed out since that…that—"
"—Is everyone alright?" Questioned Rhyann abruptly. She attempted to rise to her feet to check on Nola, but her whole body quivered through the action.
Shianni stood up as well and returned to her spot next to Nola. Her rough hands coursed along the bridesmaid's spine as a comforting gesture, but it seemed to be doing little. "We're fine…for now, but we need to do something about this." The red haired woman's tone was rushed and stressed. She was worried.
In disbelief, Rhyann stood there for a moment, having a hard time coping with the fact that she had been kidnapped. This seemed like an extreme lapse in judgment, and she had to believe, if not for herself then for the others, that Vaughan was just drunk. An Arl's son would never make such a decision consciously, and definitely, when he was sober, he would profusely apologize and return them home without so much as a scratch on them. "Surely we can talk this over with him. When he's not so drunk, I'm sure Vaughan is quite the reasonable man."
Shianni scoffed at the hopeless optimism her cousin was spewing. "He's not reasonable," she started, "he'll have his way with us, and we'll just go home and try to forget that this ever happened."
From outside the room they were being held in, the sound of a key sinking into the lock alerted the women that their captors were about to enter. Every single one of them rushed to the corner, with the exception of Nola, who remained hunched over mid-prayer. Valora was shaking terribly, and she clung to Shianni as though her life depended on it.
"Don't fight." Uttered Rhyann in a hushed tone to the others. "It'll just be worse; just do what they ask and it will be over quickly."
The door swung open. Several guards in armor baring the Urien crest strode in casually. Their leader, a man with the most piercing blue eyes, wore a wicked grin as he ventured closer than the others seemed to dare. "Hello, wenches." He taunted, his steely eyes glossing over each girl as though he was taking his pick of the selection. "Lord Vaughan has called for his," he chuckled, "female company. And it is my duty to deliver you to him."
Suddenly, Nola flew up from her fetal position and let out a horrifying shriek. Her eyes were wide and crazy as she looked on their captors with horror. The guard captain's response was simple, but cruel. He unsheathed his sword. And, in the same movement, slashed her throat. Blood spurted everywhere, coating the remaining four women as their friend collapsed to the ground. Nola tried to speak, but the only sound was a gurgling as she drown in her own blood. In mere seconds, she was dead.
"You killed Nola!" Howled one of the women, Rhyann couldn't see who. But, before another incident happened, the other guards collected the girls, save Rhyann, and dragged them off. This left her alone, and with three of the guards still. Their leader had proven that he wasn't averse to killing, and she was unarmed herself. This did not bode well for her.
"Lord Vaughan wanted you saved for last. Said you were the pretty one, and he was going to enjoy breaking you in." Hissed the head guard as he approached. His steeled boots made a soft clank with every step that he took, only frightening Rhyann further.
Her little heart was pounding, her whole body was quivering uncontrollably, and she had no idea what to do. "I—I won't fight. Promise." She stuttered, not wanting to lose her life just as Nola had. There was no other option but to give in. The memories, they could be blocked out, she told herself as the guard drew closer, so close that she could smell his breath. What had she done to deserve this, wondered the girl in those final moments as he drew ever closer. Never in her life had she been a trouble-maker, and yet here she was. Rhyann sucked in a sharp breath, bracing herself for them to snatch her up.
"Uh…hello?"
From behind the guards, Rhyann could visibly see Soris. He had a crossbow strapped to his back, and in his hand, a sword. The guards a whipped around to see what the fuss was. Her cousin took advantage of that moment of confusion and slid the weapon across the cold flooring and over to her.
"Thank you." Whispered Rhyann in a prayer directed towards the Maker as she armed herself with the sword. The idea of even hurting someone put her off, but they had killed Nola and wouldn't hesitate to doing the same to her.
"Oh sod." Cursed the head guard once he had noticed that he had two armed elves to contend with. His own bloodied sword came out once more. He charged for Rhyann.
In a flurry of fear and sorrow, Rhyann swung the sword wildly. Tears streamed down her face as both hands gripped the hilt of the blade tightly. She was screaming, but her ears had temporarily stopped functioning. The only indicator that she was making any noise was a pain in her throat.
The girl's eyes shut steadfast as she continued to swing the weapon like an enraged soldier. Sound started to return to her, but it wasn't what she had expected to hear.
"Ouch!"
"Grab her, Sten!"
Someone exceptionally large lifted Rhyann off of the ground. She fought and flailed against it, but the person was stronger than she. Her whole body was shuddering against the weight of the other individual, and she could hear a great many voices around her, but was far too terrified to open her eyes. She did, however, and the first thing she noticed was that she was clutching a mop tightly in both of her hands. The girl still fought against whoever was restraining her, but her senses were returning.
That Alistair fellow from earlier was in front of her, his hands held up defensively and his warm, honey-colored eyes were wide in shock as he looked on her with confusion. He was at the end of the mop; slight red marks dappled his forehead and other bits of exposed skin, but other than that, he looked otherwise unscathed.
None of this made sense.
Rhyann went limp, but hot tears were still running down her cheeks steadily as she tried to figure out what had happened. She remembered becoming exceptionally frightened when she had lost Lyna in the halls and then…nothing, not until that moment, at least. And yet, here she was, apparently beating down that human man who had been taking care of her and with a mop. This only caused her to dread whatever it was that she had done. These people, they had been nice to her, and for some Maker-forbidden reason, she had acquired a cleaning utensil and assaulted one of them with it. None of which, she remembered.
"Put her down, Sten. I don't think she'll be hitting Al anymore." Lyna's voice rang out.
Instantly, Rhyann was dropped to the ground. She didn't bother to move, except to release her "weapon". Her sobs were heavy, causing her chest to heave every couple of seconds, though she still couldn't put her finger on why she had been crying. It didn't seem right, though. She didn't recall where she had acquired the mop, or why she was even assaulting someone to begin with. "I—I'm sorry." Whimpered the girl as she folded her hands into her lap. "I don't know why I did that. I don't even remember doing that."
"If you don't mind, Lyna, I think the dear could use a little fresh air. It's been a stressful few days."
The owner of the voice was an older human woman, wizened in appearance, but with a timeless beauty about her. The clothes she wore were similar to those that the sisters of the Chantry wore, but had no insignia of the church on the chest. It was her kind eyes and soft smile that had Rhyann's attention, however. As if her look were speech, the elven girl could understand her. You're safe here the look suggested.
"Why don't you take her down to the courtyard for a walk, then?" Lyna smiled complacently at the offer. "Of course, only if it's alright with our new guest."
Rhyann's response was reduced to a slow nod. Though she wasn't trying to seem overzealous, was eager to get out of these halls and see the sunlight for the first time in months. Getting to go outside would be the true testament of her freedom. So, when the woman walked up to her and offered her a helping hand, she took it gratefully and rose to her feet.
For the duration of the walk to the courtyard, Rhyann remained silent. All of her thoughts remained on the scene she created in the hallway. To say she was embarrassed would be an understatement. But, the silver-haired woman had an air of compassion about her, one that the elf hadn't felt since being found by this group of people. "You never told me your name." She smiled, albeit faintly, with her words.
"It's Wynne, dear."
It was only a matter of moments until the two females made it outside. Rhyann's eyes grew large at the scene. This Arl Eamon character who apparently owned the estate had the most beautiful of plants. They were of just about every variety and color she could imagine, some even more vibrant that she could ever hope to see. Plants in the Alienage, they were dull and shriveled, most lucky to poke through the grayish dirt that passed as a street. The one exception was the Vhenadahl, with twisting branches and jade leaves that climbed up towards the sun's rays. However, it was venerated, protected as a result of Alienage culture, so to her, it was more of a statue to honor the old ways of her people, not true plantlife.
"I've never seen so many flowers." Cooed Rhyann. Her hands were curiously extended on both sides of her, stroking whatever leaf or petal came her way as she wandered about excitedly.
"I'm sure a great many of these flowers have been brought in from Orlais. The Arl's wife is from there, and I don't doubt if they would decorate their gardens with flowers from her homeland." Wynne's remark was thoughtful. Though, it was obvious that she did not come there to chat about flowers and plants.
"You told Lyna that you didn't recall what had happened in the hallway." The older woman's light pacing had led her towards some purple plants that she was observing with a faint interest. "I don't mean to hurt you or bring back any painful memories, but how much do you really remember of that night…the—the night that you were locked up in that cell?" Every so often, she cast the girl a passing glance as she waited for a response.
Wynne's question was one that Rhyann was familiar with. When she was interrogated, the guards would ask her the same thing, though usually coupled with a firm slap to her face when they thought she was feigning confusion. A phantom pain rose to her left cheek as she recalled, causing her hand to gently cup that side. "I only remember the guards killing Nola, and then nothing." What limited memories she had, while painful to recall, was something that she knew everyone she encountered from this point on would ask about. Tears didn't fall, instead, a look of forlorn regret took her face. "I remember 'waking up'—but, that's probably not the right word—and I was in Vaughan Urien's chambers with two guards restraining my arms. I had blood on my hands, and the bodies of two nobles were spent at my feet. My cousin Shianni was on the far side of the room on the floor. Her face was bruised. And my other cousin Soris was being restrained by two other guards. That's all I can remember."
Wynne motioned for Rhyann to join her on a stone bench where she had recently taken a seat situated between two bushes of blossoming roses. The elf did do dutifully, though her stride was slow, almost leisurely.
"That must be very difficult for you to tell anyone." Wynne was sitting perfectly still, her blue eyes trained on the green counterparts of her companion. "I have seen this happen a few times before in the Circle. When something particularly traumatic happens to an individual, their subconscious will often shut the memory out in order to protect them. The mind is a fascinating thing like that." The older woman paused briefly in order to take a breath. "That's probably why you attacked Alistair. Something must have triggered the memories to be re-lived, but your subconscious doesn't think that you're emotionally ready to cope with what happens, so it keeps hiding them from you."
"The Circle…does that mean you're a mage?"
"Yes, it does. Why? Will this change your opinion on me if I am?"
Rhyann shook her head fervently. "Oh, no ma'am!" Having never met a mage, the small girl didn't know what to expect from one, though she had to figure that they were very similar to the City Elves; they had nowhere to belong in Thedas because others didn't want to take the time to understand them. "I always felt that mages were a lot like me and my kind. You know, treated different because of something we can't help. My ears are pointy and you can do magic, but that doesn't mean we're bad people. But, they lock us up and pretend like we're not there because of that."
Gingerly, the mage patted Rhyann's hand. Her eyes softened as she looked on the girl. "Those are very true words. This is why Arl Eamon feels that it's so important that Alistair takes the throne at the Landsmeet. The boy is inexperienced, but he has a good head on his shoulders, and would do what is best for all peoples of Ferelden."
Rhyann was about to ask what Wynne was talking about when she mentioned Alistair taking the throne when she was interrupted. The doors leading to the courtyard they were in flew open and out charged Soris. At first, his face was blank, stoic. But, when his gaze aligned with his cousin, a big, goofy grin surfaced and he took a light jog in order to get to her quicker.
"Cousin!" His voice boomed excitedly upon reaching her, picking her up with ease and giving her a rough, though affectionate hug. "They told me that you were alive, but I refused to believe it until I saw you alive and awake for myself."
A grin that matched Soris's face met Rhyann's at the sight of her cousin; to say she was overjoyed would be a vast understatement. She readily accepted the hug, her pointed chin resting on his shoulder as her feet dangled off the ground. "I so happy to see you too!" The girl's voice squeaked on the final word, too elated to care.
"I saw the leader of the Wardens, that Lyna woman, right before coming out to see you, cos'. She said that Queen Anora has gotten to the go-ahead and that we can go home tomorrow." Soris plopped Rhyann back down on the bench where she had been seated before he came out, though based on the look on his face, he was still quite giddy about the recent developments.
"Home." The word flowed through her lips like wine as she spoke, happy memories of time with her family surfacing with each second. There was an apprehension that followed, about whether or not the people of the Alienage would treat her differently, but that was overshadowed by her genuine happiness to get to see her father and Shianni again.