All Andra knew anymore was the pungent aroma of tobacco and an even more oppressing stench of freshly caught fish. Her nostrils burned with the offensive smells and she pinched her nose tightly in an effort to forget them. It didn't help much, for when she breathed through her mouth instead, the smells became tastes. Horrible, oily tastes that stuck to the back of her throat. Also, her mind, which had once been a mess of foggy thoughts of Solas—back behind those crates—was now jarringly alert. She no longer had the fluttering of butterflies blooming desire in her stomach. In fact, the only fluttering happening was that of her gut rolling with abandon at the smells, aided by the gentle rocking of the ship. She felt distressingly ill.

Vomiting was absolutely not an option, however, even if she wanted to. The ship—dubbed The Aglaia by its Captain, Dallen—had barely left Jader's port. If she or Solas, or any of the other five refugees that had also been smuggled on, were seen climbing out of the crates they had been squished into, there would be trouble. More trouble than anyone would like to deal with, even if she and Solas could handle anything thrown their way. More importantly, if Andra wretched onto any of the supplies she was currently sharing space with, she would have to pay for the loss, and she didn't exactly have that kind of money on her person.

She didn't know how Dallen and his crew got them all aboard so easily. She had expected something a little more cloak and dagger. Or at the very least, she had expected some surveyor or cargo inspector to come around and check to make sure everything was in order and then they all would be caught. That hadn't happened at all. In fact, all that had occurred was Rheis finishing his talk with Brym and then ushering Andra and Solas towards a side room where new crates were being filled and sealed with goods. Along with five others, the two elves had been packed away in their own individual containers, instructed to keep their mouths shut, and then had waited an agonizing hour until being hauled onto the ship by dockworkers without any complications along the way.

It was probably just Andra'a lack of expertise, but she was impressed. Terribly uncomfortable with aching limbs that screamed to be stretched out and an ever present itch from the straw running up her back, but impressed.

.

Outside of her dark, confined space, Andra heard faint, faraway shouts and movement as orders were called and sailors obeyed them. She could clearly make out the creaking of wood from every direction, masking a quiet stretching of canvas as the sails caught the wind. It was all so foreign to her. Even the faint salt in the air was strange to her. She had traveled before—seen the gilded streets of Orlais, gaped in awe at the stone masterwork of Orzammar, traversed deadly swamps and deserts, she had even been to Denerim and met Queen Anora—but never by boat.

As an elf, Andra was accustomed to solid ground beneath her feet—trees scraping the sky, green as far as the eye could see! She was accustomed to the smell of damp earth and moss, mingling with the sweet aroma of flora and the sometimes not-so-sweet fauna. She hadn't yet seen that endless blue which kissed the horizon, but from Jader's port, she knew the Waking Sea would eventually spill into the Amaranthine Ocean. There, she would no longer be familiar with the world. She had seen rivers in her life, had even seen the Waking Sea once before, but nothing compared to actually riding these waters herself and feeling that gentle bobbing which offended her senses.

Andra swallowed a lump in her throat, she hoped the nausea would go away once she was able to stand on her own two feet and walk around the ship. Was it normal for her to feel so sick? She doubted it. It had to be the tobacco and fish.

As another hour passed—or was it two?—Andra was convinced that the Creators were punishing her. Surely she had been in this box long enough. Was she supposed to stay in here for the whole trip? The journey to Antiva would take days! If that was the case, Andra pledged to share some choice words with Captain Dallen and his crew, and then write back to Varric and tell him to never do business with these people again. The dwarf no doubt had other smugglers he could rely on with more tact.

Despite the near boiling irritation Andra felt roiling through her, she continued to remind herself that Dallen and his crew were putting themselves at risk offering their aid. They could just as easily have turned everyone away and Andra and Solas—with no other to turn to—would be forced to make their trek on foot. From Orzammar they would have had to skirt around the Waking Sea into Orlais towards Nevarra, then either into Tevinter or the Free Marches and finally to Antiva, and even then they would have to go even further north until reaching the Arlathan Forest. Traveling aboard the Aglaia was their best bet. What would have taken weeks on foot would now only take days, cutting down on time immensely.

Resigned, Andra made a mental note to thank Captain Dallen properly once she was out of her damned prison.

Swallowing another lump in her throat, Andra forced herself to focus on anything else to take her mind off of her nausea. She thought back on her dream at the Temple of Mythal, trying to remember the faces of the ones the spirit had told her belonged to her mother and father. Their faces fixated themselves in her mind like a hazy static, however, giving only enough information for Andra to make out the general placement of eyes, noses, and mouths. Detail evaded her and Andra, frustrated with her own incompetence to remember the features of her parents, moved her mind onto other memories.

She watched through her mind's eye as she ran through the forest as a child, just as she had in her dream. There was a familiarity to the feeling but she couldn't recall anything from her time before the Ashihari. This dream was her only link to her past, but even then, could she trust it? She shook her head, the spirit Solas brought to her had confirmed its authenticity. That was enough for her to know it was real.

Slowly, the Aglaia's rocking, despite how tormenting it was to Andra's queasy stomach, began also lulling the elvhen girl to sleep. Though, no doubt also aided by nearly two hours of immobilization. She didn't know how much longer she had in her confines, but anything was better than the constant fight against her stomach's protests to purge its contents, so Andra welcomed her fatigue to carry her off.

The change was so abrupt that Andra wasn't sure if she really had fallen asleep or not. Not that it would have mattered anyway as the blonde's mind was absolutely trapped and lost within her dream, entirely unaware that there even was a conscious world anymore.

.

.

.

Before her, Andra stood upon the precipice of Utopia. The sun shone brilliant gold as it draped down upon the world like a warm blanket. She felt the smooth flagstone beneath her bare feet which were decorated with stunning metalwork that wrapped around her ankles and up her calves and thighs. The metal was a beautiful polished silver that imitated vines sprouting leaves and small flowers. Andra's arms bore the same metalwork as the faux vines snaked around her middle fingers and dew across the backs of her hands towards her wrists and then winded around up to her elbows. She rested these hands upon a banister of intricately carved marble which separated her from the steep fall into the green of the forest below. A gentle wind glided past, blowing the loosely draped white silk of Andra's dress about her body along with her long blonde hair. No clouds lingered in the sky, leaving that vast blue unmarred to appear infinite in its depth.

Behind Andra, through the archway that opened to her little balcony, the glistening of castle spires and ramparts caught the glare of the sun and reflected it back in a dazzling shimmer. Bright marble mingled with manicured gardens—trees and shrubs and flowers of all kinds maintained to perfection. The air smelled of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass.

It was paradise.

Paradise defaced as Andra peered far down below her, over her ledge, and stared blankly at the approaching forces which radiated malice with their every step. Her body told her to flee the approaching danger but she found that her feet would not obey her commands to move. So she remained. Staring. Cries of alarm rose into focus as Andra realized her world was not peaceful, and, in fact, was a flurry of movement and urgency as elves all around answered the call to action.

An arrow whizzed past Andra, missing her face by inches as it landed with a hard crack into the side of the marble archway behind. Despite the rising panic she felt as though a tempest within her, not a single muscle in her body reacted. Another arrow then, this time burying itself into the banister next to her left hand. Against her will, Andra turned and faced away from the danger, her arms now resting at her sides. Anxiety gripped the blonde as she waited for the sound of another arrow.

It never came.

Eternity stretched before and behind as she felt her body tilt back but was not met with the hard marble of the railing. Instead, her feet slipped easily from the balcony and she began falling. Plummeting towards the earth. The warm air whipped past at an alarming rate but Andra still had no control of her body. She wished to peer over her shoulder, to know how close the ground was, but was left at the mercy of whatever was controlling her. Minutes passed, twisting into hours which morphed into just a few seconds.

Andra was standing. Her bare feet were planted firmly on the ground, grass between her toes as though she had never been falling at all. It had been an instant transition, a mere blink. The blonde elf found herself wobbling as her body adjusted to the sensation of gravity's shift—which switched from tugging at her back to now tugging down at her feet. She stumbled to her knees despite her efforts to stay standing.

"Tel'dhru'gonathe!" A soft voice rings.

Startled, Andra looked up and is met with the soft, violet glow of a spirit approaching. Hurriedly, she stands and begins backing away.

"Ea atish," The spirit coos, drawing closer, "Tel'gela em."

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Andra asks in Elvhen. Even now, after all this time, Andra was still startled by the ease with which she now spoke the ancient Elvhen language. As if it had always been her native tongue. Keeper Sathari—and several of the other elders—taught Andra few phrases as a child, then more as she grew older. Never enough to be fluent in. More distressing than that, despite her efforts to recall, she no longer remembered the common tongue. The language she was most practiced in, and used most often, was lost to her.

The spirit appears to pulsate ever so slightly as it replied, continuing to speak in the ancient language as well, "Yes, you are dreaming, as all who come here are."

"You... you called me 'unbelievable', why?" Andra asked.

"Many a year has passed since I have met with one of your kind. I am surprised at our crossed paths."

"My kind?" Andra's face twisted with confusion, "You mean an elf?"

"No, that is not what I meant."

Silence stretched as Andra waited for the spirit to elaborate, though she soon realized it had no intention to. Irritated, she pressed, "What did you mean then?"

"I am always curious about new things, though I am often wary of dangers. The living are unpredictable, and always hunger for advantage in its many forms, often seeking such from the dead. They twist my kind into perversions of ourselves. But when you entered the Fade I could not resist such a call. To witness that one of you yet lives is... Onharos!"

"What does that even mean?"

The spirit tilted its head as it studied Andra, or at least what passed for a head. She felt it regarding her curiously, as though she were some unknown phenomena, and fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I'm not an exotic animal," Andra said in irritation.

"Not in the literal sense of your phrase. You are, however, quite an anomaly." The spirit floated around Andra, observing her from all sides.

"And you're... some kind of spirit of curiosity?" Andra asked, trying to turn the conversation off of her.

"Precisely."

"Well—" A thought struck Andra then and she suddenly found herself very desperate for time. She silently pleaded with her gods to prevent her dream from ending for a while longer, "You know who I am?"

"I do not know you," Curiosity explained, "this is our first meeting."

"Yes, but you know what I am? Whatever that means. Or where I come from, at least?"

"You do not know?"

"No, I—could you just tell me? It's very important."

"Your parents did not want you to know?" Curiosity asked, ignoring—or oblivious—to the desperation in the elven girl's voice.

"My parents are dead, I never knew them," Andra explained quickly, "I was raised—never mind! Please, I need to know about my past!"

"Ah, I see now. My excitement at our meeting clouded my sight, but I sense now that your true self is yet still asleep."

"What?" Andra felt like pulling her hair out, she didn't have time for all these riddles. "No—listen: I'm searching for my past. Any information at all. Please tell me what you know, I beg you!"

"I sympathize with your plight," Curiosity says, "but I can sense that you need more time. Were I to tell you what I know, I fear you would reject it too readily."

"You can't know that," Andra pleaded.

"I can. You are not the first I have encountered seeking answers. An unprepared mind falters beneath the weight of challenging truths."

"I can take it, I promise."

"I sense another of my kind is already aiding you?"

Andra blinked at the unexpected question.

"Your mind is surprisingly open to me," Curiosity explained.

Immediately, Andra collected her composure. In her desperation, she hadn't realized how vulnerable she was making herself. This might appear to be a 'good' spirit but that didn't mean corrupt ones weren't around. She chided herself for being so careless. Mage or not, she could still be possessed.

"It is wise to shield your mind here, but I did not imply ill intent on my part."

"I know..." Andra sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair. "Look, tell me something about who I am. Anything at all. I don't even care if you say it in some vague riddle. Just... anything... please."

"Be careful what you ask for," Curiosity warned.

Andra tilted her head back in exasperation, staring up at a wavering blue sky, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. "Obviously I don't mean anything."

"Then say what you mean."

"Tell me what you know of where I come from, or what you believe I am," Andra worded carefully.

"What spirit has sent you on this quest?"

Andra closed her eyes, stuffing down the urge to spew obscenities, "One of Mischief."

Curiosity laughed, "How... adequate."

"You keep diverting my questions..."

"Mischief has no doubt sent you on a seemingly pointless errand?"

"I have to find a rune in the ruins of Arlathan..."

Curiosity was quiet then for a moment, gliding around Andra as if pacing. She resigned to her fate, that she wasn't going to get her answers, and stared ahead of her while waiting for the next pointless question to follow.

"Clever," Curiosity finally said, resting off to the girl's side. "Yes, this is an excellent idea! To break you in slowly is to allow you time to adjust."

"Excuse me?"

Curiosity whizzed in close, barely a foot away from Andra's face now. She resisted the desire to back up as her silver eyes peered into its nearly formless shape of vibrant purple.

"I shall leave you with this," the spirit began, "for it is all I can offer that won't hurt you: Time is of no consequence and no burden. And understand that there is often more suffering in imagination than in reality."

Confusion gripped the elf, "What does that mean?"

"I am sorry. I wish I could offer more—"

"Then do!"

"—but you are not ready."

"That doesn't help me! Please!"

"You are on the right path, trust in your quest. I cheer eagerly for your awakening."

.

CRACK

With a jarring jolt, Andra awoke to sailors prying the top of her crate off, reflexively trying to sit up and consequently smacking her head against the wood before they could get the lid off in time. A handful of curses rolled out of her mouth and the sailors laughed, mistaking her action as an overeager need to be free of her confines.

"Calm down, lass, you'll be outta there in a moment!" Andra recognized the voice of Rheis, Dallen's second in command.

Once opened, Andra blinked repeatedly as the glare of a lantern bore into her eyes from above and her pupils were forced to adjust to the new light. She was desperate to get out of that box, however, and stood immediately. Her legs screamed in agony and delight at being allowed to stretch out, but she wavered against the rocking of the ship. It was one thing to experience it sitting down, and another entirely while standing up.

Rheis gripped the elf's shoulder to steady her, "Careful, you don't have your sea legs yet, lass."

It was then that Andra realized her sudden movement had been a poor choice. While asleep, she hadn't had to confront the turbulence of her stomach any longer, but that hadn't meant it had gone away. The quick action not only reminded Andra of her sea sickness but also intensified it to the point she knew she couldn't stop what was coming.

As fast as she could, Andra stumbled out of the box, gripping onto Rheis and another sailor who was next to him, then rushed to the side of the boat in absolute gracelessness and retched everything in her stomach out into the waters, clinging hopelessly to the ship's railing. Laughter rung out behind Andra as the crew watched her in amusement.

A hand laid on Andra's back as she dry heaved when there was nothing left to purge. "Don't worry, it gets easier with time." She recognized Solas' voice.

"I'm never setting foot on a boat ever again after this..." Andra said hoarsely.

Solas chuckled but said nothing more, merely offering his comforting presence to his companion while she battled her will against the sea.

ELVHEN USED:

Tel'dhru'gonathe: "Amazing / Impressive / Incredible / Unbelievable"

Ea atish: "Be calm / still"

Tel'gela em: "Do not fear me"

Onharos: "Wondrous / Amazing / Fascinating"