In the distance, a persistent ringing roused him from his sleep. It seemed so far away and yet so close. He had almost been able to sleep through it—almost, but it was so abnormal and out-of-place that when he'd half woken, returning to his slumber was near impossible.

Groggy, he sat, swinging his legs over the edge of his cot and stifling a yawn. A stray piece of hay poked his thigh as he teetered to his feet.

The ringing was louder now that he was awake. It was just outside his bedroom wall. It was dull and shook him to his core, but still drunk from sleep, he couldn't place it.

He wondered if his papa was the source. Perhaps he'd slept in, and his father was making breakfast? But no, that wouldn't make sense. Moonlight was still leaking through the curtains of his window. It was late, late enough the moon was high in the sky.

But it was his best guess, so he stumbled into the kitchen. One hand came up, and as his vision focused, he jumped in shock. His skin was pale from an unfortunate amount of years cooped up inside of his home, and this skin was sun-kissed from months spent working on the docks.

No. This wasn't him. Her. She. She was in this man's body. What was her name again? Maker, it hurt to think.

The man seemed to be aware of her in the sense she was aware of the elf possessing her. He was frightened, confused, and so fucking tired she pitied him. She got the feeling he had spent his entire day working and wanted nothing more than to sleep, and now her dumbass was interrupting that.

She wondered if he could tell she was sorry.

The very thought seemed to calm him, but only slightly. He didn't understand, and then, she realized he didn't even know he was a mage. He'd never cast a spell in his life, and it was that realization that led her to believe this wasn't a man, but a kid, barely old enough to help his parents with upkeep of their home.

She found herself prodding in his head while he walked to what she assumed was the kitchen. He was nine, a worker for one of the warehouses on the northern dock. What was his name? Fenix?

Why the hell was a nine year old working? A nine year old's place was running amok and wreaking havoc on the streets in ways only children can.

He was an elf, wasn't he?

She felt him swallow, unnerved, and immediately she wanted nothing more than to apologize. She wanted to leave him, allow him some peace from the revelation she forced him to have, but she just didn't know how. She didn't even know how she got here.

They were in the kitchen now. One cupboard, one table with two chairs. A window was above said table, but the curtains were drawn shut. She could see his age now in his height: the table was just under his shoulder, but it would be waist-high for her.

Past the table and into the front room, they could hear a commotion. It sounded like someone moving their belongings around. Were they being robbed, he thought?

She knew it couldn't be that. Part of her knew what this was, what she was seeing, but she didn't remember.

As they left the kitchen, light from his father's room poured into the front. A door sat against a wall with a coat rack that had seen one-too-many winters. A dirty mirror hung beside it, and next to that was a bare rack that looked like it held a bow. She could see no such thing, but when she returned her attention to what Fenix was seeing, she found it.

His father was bundling blankets and his favorite coat up. The bow was on the bare floor beside him and a quiver was slung hastily over one shoulder.

"What's happening?"

Papa looked up, startled, but then breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know you were awake." White hair fell to his shoulders in neat tresses, too neat and too clean for the clothes hanging on his body. Dirt smeared a tunic that looked like it was white one day. The edges of his trousers were torn and smeared with mud, and there was a tear halfway up his calf. The buckles on his shoes were rusted over from years of use.

He stood, revealing a wicked scar down his jaw. Grey eyes settled on them as he set a hand on their shoulder, and she feared he knew something was wrong with his son. Something passed over his face.

"We have to leave," he said.

The confusion Fenix was feeling deepened. "But why?" As he asked the question, his father turned back around to finish his preparations, and they took a step after him. "What's happening?"

"The guards are preparing for something, son," he said, tightening a strap over a bedroll. "I suspect the horde has been sighted somewhere nearby."

Wait, was this happening right now?

Fear consumed the boy, threatening to leak over to her, but she hastily threw up a wall between them, distancing herself from him.

"Have you watched the sailors like I told you to?"

Papa stood, walking to the coat rack, and took off a heavy jacket that was probably far too expensive for any of the three of them to afford. He returned to his son and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders, fastening each buckle quickly.

"Have you?" he demanded, shaking the loose fabric.

Fenix jumped, startled, and nodded. "Where are we going?"

He checked the boy's coat again, straightened it and smoothed it out, and then looked his son in the eyes. "We're going to go north. Kirkwall, perhaps, or maybe Starkhaven. We don't want to be in Ferelden right now."

"But mama—"

"Do not speak of her, boy," he snapped aggressively. She felt Fenix's fear as her own, equally surprised and startled at the outburst. He was usually a quiet and timid man, but this...he never got angry when he spoke of mama. After a few quiet moments, the father sighed again. "I'm sorry. But we have to go. She wouldn't want us to stay here and d...get hurt."

The boy nodded, and without question, went to get his boots on. His small hands shook violently—he was nauseous now, wondering what could possibly frighten his father so much that he snapped.

The darkspawn, of course, but they couldn't get through the walls, could they? The city was a fortress. They had to be safe here.

"Here." Their father handed them a smaller pack that she hadn't originally seen. They opened the flap, peeking inside to see a small coin purse, gloves, a hat, a canteen, and a few meager rolls of bread, all neatly and hastily stowed away. "I want you to go to the docks and find the dingy Carter uses for his smuggling. You know where it is, right?"

She briefly saw a small boat floating in a drain, moored to the end of a drain pipe.

They nodded and he ruffled their hair affectionately. "Good man. If you can't get there, I'll meet you in our hidey hole in an hour. I have something to attend to before we leave, okay?"

They nodded again. "Yes, sir."

The straps of the bag fit perfectly on their shoulders. They'd been preparing for this for months; every coin, every scrap of money they had, went into supplies for this inevitable outcome. Their father had known it was coming. Fenix had known it was coming. Come as it might, he still didn't believe the darkspawn could get into the city, and he was still sure they would be safe. The soldiers would protect them.

Oh, the innocence, she thought.

As they crept out the door, the sounds of panic throughout the city increased. People yelling and screaming, the faint rumbling of marching feet, the bells tolling. Elves were frantically running around their great tree, and then she understood. The poverty, the working at an extremely young age. They were elves. This was the Alienage.

She watched as the boy ran between the cluster of homes, under a rickety fence behind a shop, and away from the crowds of guards and elves. Here it was quieter, but just on the other side of the homes, they could still hear the frantic rushing to prepare for...something.

As they ran, a pair of voices stood out from the rest. She could hear them whispering in an aggressive tone. She heard the words "dragon" and "Archdemon" and felt the boy's heart skip a beat.

No no no no no, she urged. Tried to urge. She felt his feet slow, his legs freezing up in terror, and it took everything she had to encourage him to keep going, to be brave and to follow his father's directions. It was so easy to just reach and make this body hers as much as it was his. It would be so easy. She could feel the power there, lurking just under the surface, begging her to overcome him and propel him to safety.

She recoiled at the thought, withdrawing far into the recesses of his mind, and again, she felt him panic. What was happening to him?

What was happening to her? Was this what it was? Was this what was wrong with her? Was some mage reaching across the continent and taking control of her actions? Was that what was happening?

No. This elf had too many memories. She knew things, knew people and places and all sorts of different styles of combat she couldn't even decipher.

But here, with Fenix, it was quiet. Peaceful. There was no nagging sensation in the back of her mind alerting her to the elf's presence. There was...nothing, except blissful, wonderful silence. It was so beautiful she thought they might end up crying because of her. It was such a welcome relief to be in control of oneself, to be the one with the overwhelming feelings and desires. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

And then, she became aware of Fenix's fear again, his confusion about what this was, his deep hatred of magic and his own disgust with the revelation he himself was a mage. What the elf was doing to her, she was doing to him.

She wondered if the elf felt the same regret she did.

Once they'd finally fought their way out of the crowds in the market and into the residential streets, he broke into a sprint, again ducking behind the homes. The further they progressed, the less and less guards they saw. The less candle and torchlight they saw coming from inside.

These people were already gone. Fucking humans.

The disdain was his, the words were hers.

He ran as long as his legs could carry him, but he was growing winded in a way she hadn't felt in years. His lungs screamed, ached, tightened like her throat did when she was embarrassed.

He started to panic again. Not now, he begged. Please Maker, not now.

She could feel the tightness in his chest, simply...massaged it away. It took a few steps, but she worked, fighting to release the tension from him and draw it into herself. And as she did, she felt his relief as his footsteps began quickening in pace. She poured her own energy into him, practically willing him forward, and again, she wondered if this was what the elf did to her.

The closer they grew to the docks, the more he was praying Carter, whoever he was, was still imprisoned. If he couldn't get to his tiny boat, he couldn't flee, and if he was in jail, then he couldn't get to his boat.

Despair as their eyes fell on the lame rope. Anger as they realized they were stuck here. Terror as they realized they were trapped, and the darkspawn were coming.


Elissa woke with a start, chest heaving and lungs screaming in pain. Almost immediately she was greeted with mild concern from the elf, but after some odd poking and prodding, the presence retreated. A strange sense of satisfaction and pride emanated from that tiny corner of herself. What it could be proud of, though, Elissa didn't want or care to know.

"Elissa?"

She shot straight out of her skin at the sound of her own name. She had forgotten what it was when she was with that boy. The elf, Fenix? She could hardly remember that was his name, or any details about him, but she remembered the dream, if that's what you could call it, vividly. Every sight, every smell, every sound. It was...disturbing.

As her surroundings came into focus, Elissa quickly recognized their camp and the campfire, one of hundreds, before her tent.

"Are you all right?"

The edges of everything were still blurry, but she knew the hazy shape standing in front of her was Leliana.

Her mouth was dry, but then...hadn't she been drinking?

Elissa looked down, hands searching until she found her canteen. The lid was still off, banging off the side of the metal. All of her water had poured into the grass.

"I...I don't know," Elissa admitted.

"You've been sitting here, staring off into the sky, for almost an hour."

Elissa blinked, rolled her shoulders so quickly it cracked her neck too, as she got to her feet. Her head swam. Leliana caught her by the shoulders as she staggered.

"Do you need to go see Wynne?"

Panic. "No, please Maker anybody but Wynne."

Leliana looked at her like she'd grown a second head. After what just happened, Elissa wouldn't have argued if Leliana said she had, either. How was any of that possible?

"What's wrong?"

She blinked, struggling to get rid of the blurriness and confusion. It was like she'd just woken up from a nap. Her muscles cramped everywhere. Everything about being inside of her own body again felt strange. It was like she needed to readjust.

"I think I just..." Elissa let out a breath. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I think I just possessed some kid in Denerim."

Leliana's mouth opened a bit, like she intended to speak, and then immediately closed as she squinted at her. "So...Morrigan, then?"

Elissa nodded once. The witch had been the one to tell them she might be a dreamer, whatever that meant, so it was likely Morrigan also knew what kind of magic this was.

As soon as Elissa took a step after the bard, the ground rushed up under her and her legs crumpled. Elissa caught herself on her palms, felt the presence inside of her in a way she hadn't before as it reached out to her gently, reimbuing her muscles with the strength they needed to work.

Leliana helped her to her feet regardless. One arm looped around her chest as the other pulled her upright. Maker, she was so strong it should've been illegal.

"Maybe you should catch your breath first."

Maker, that accent. Elissa would've melted right then and there if there weren't people ten feet away.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Elissa puffed, sitting right back down where she'd started. "You're smart, Leli."

The bard huffed a snort of amusement. "Or perhaps you're just stupid."

Elissa waved a finger. "That's also a good idea."

Leliana sat beside her as Elissa drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. All around were tents. Some had candles glowing inside, others were dark. People, humans, elves, dwarves, mages, templars, all milled around aimlessly, chatting with friends or strangers.

Less than twelve hours. Elissa could feel the tension in the air. She could see it in their faces, every single one of them. In less than twelve hours, the fate of Ferelden would be decided.

"Have I told you I love you yet?" Elissa asked abruptly.

Leliana made a face. "I'm sorry?"

"Have I? I thought I said it before, after we...uh..." The moment of boldness was gone now as Elissa thought back to the first time they'd had sex, and she felt her cheeks redden from embarrassment. Leliana hadn't been able to keep her hands off her since they left Redcliffe, and while Elissa wasn't exactly complaining, she thought it might be Leliana's way of coping with her worries.

"I want you to know," Elissa decided.

Leliana laughed, hiding her face by looking away, but Elissa thought she might've seen a blush on her cheeks, too.

"Someday I'll teach you Orlesian," Leliana said. "Then you might be able to understand the things I whisper to you while you sleep."

Elissa blinked, and then frowned. "You...talk to me while I sleep?"

Leliana still didn't look at her. "I...I am afraid to say it again, I think. If you..." Her voice caught in her throat, but she recovered quickly. "If you die, not saying it will make it easier, yes?" The question just hung there, not really meant to have an answer, but Elissa suspected Leliana didn't believe it would make the loss any easier, and that she was just trying to pretend it would for her sake.

Elissa knew she'd already said it. She knew as well as she knew that she'd said it herself. It was one time, said after a brief moment of passion, before falling asleep after an exhausting day. Elissa hadn't meant for Leliana to hear it; Leliana hadn't meant for Elissa to hear it.

Love just complicated things. It made this harder. It made Elissa feel guilty for persisting long enough it turned into this. It made things...strange for her.

Sex never had any strings attached. It was always one night of excitement, followed by a morning of disappointment mixed with satisfaction.

And then there was Leliana, crashing into her life like a wave against a stone. Leliana had been so friendly, whether or not the intention had originally been pure, and had such a welcoming demeanor it had been hard to not befriend her. It started out innocently enough, sure—Leliana hadn't wanted Alistair to be subjected to babysitting a petulant child. Then they took to talking, and on the rare chance Elissa decided to actually participate, Leliana eventually started throwing in little things, flirting, and it was terrifying.

"You're an ass, y'know that?" Elissa said.

Leliana scoffed. "And what have I done now, dear Warden?"

"If you hadn't been doing...whatever it was you were doing, we wouldn't have wound up in this mess."

"True," Leliana agreed. "It made it all the more fun, no?"

She threw up her hands in annoyance. "I just feel so wrong."

Leliana returned her attention to Elissa now, eyes a little watery, and Elissa wondered if she'd been crying. "And why's that?"

"You were just fucking with me because I was an asshole," Elissa exclaimed. "I deserved it, but fuck, now we have...this, and I feel guilty for falling in love with you knowing I'm going to die. You don't deserve that and neither do I."

"Please stop talking about this."

"How am I supposed to?" Elissa demanded.

"I don't know," Leliana retorted. "Please, just...stop. I don't want to think about it."

"But—"

Leliana stood abruptly. "I don't want to talk about it."

And without another word, the bard disappeared into the camp, leaving Elissa feeling worse than before.