"Hawke" stood in front of the door leading out of her room. Lightly, she touched the collar around her neck, barely tracing a slight section of the engravings that tied her. Letting her arm fall, she steeled herself. Deliberately, she took a few steps forward so she was just outside the doorway and paused. Then she took one more step. And then another. When she crossed her way to the rail, she waited.
Nothing.
Letting out a deep sigh, the edge of her nerves fled. Looking around, she took in the mansion around her - narrow windows reaching floor to ceiling on her left, a writing desk below her, a chandelier above. She walked towards the stairs, fingers trailing the rail, and chose at that moment to wander the place, given her newfound freedom. Halls and rooms brought a soundless welcome as she explored. Fireplaces and furniture whispered of ghosts while the walls echoed with a life long lost.
She eventually found her way to what she assumed was supposed to be the garden in the back. Leading from the door was a narrow pebble path that curved and bent until it reached the high wall a few yards away. There was a simple fountain depicting a miniature mermaid holding her upper body out of the bowl, hands gripping the rim, and throwing her head back, a stream of water shooting from her mouth and into the basin behind her. A tree stood lonesome in a corner and ivy crawled up the walls on all four sides. Well trimmed, robustly green grass filled the garden.
She took a seat in the grass and looked up to the sky, letting the sun rays embrace her pale face, feeling less like a trapped animal, just breathing, letting nature fill her lungs and caress her skin and brush her legs and fingers, uncaring if time froze or passed or if it even existed anymore.
"There you are, messere," Bodhan's voice called from the doorway, "Two of your companions have come to visit: Varric and Isabela. Shall I send them here?"
She nodded.
"Very well, messere," he said, "I shall return momentarily with your guests." She was left alone for a while after that. Then two people emerged from the garden door - a blond dwarf whom she remembered from the cave, and a dark woman with exaggerated curves and an abundance of skin showing. The dwarf raised his hand briefly in greeting.
"Blondie gave us an update on what's going on - Anders, I mean. Varric Tethras," he said with a slight bow.
"And Isabela," the woman beside him greeted. The two sat down beside her.
After a few moments of silence, Isabela piped up, "So you really don't remember anything? Not even a little?"
"I have memories," she replied carefully, "however they do not seem to... align with my current experiences."
"I've gotta ask: what is it like?" Varric said.
Hawke debated her words and finally chose, "Surreal."
They chatted for several minutes, the two rogues doing a majority of the talking, with several fruitless attempts to jog Hawke's memory.
Eventually Varric asked while pointing to her neck, "So there's no way to take that off?"
Hawke shrugged and said, "If there is, I don't know it."
"Do you mind if we try our hand at it? I happen to be very good at getting things off," Isabela said with a suggestive smirk. Hawke resisted the urge to smack her.
Varric laughed and said, "You just couldn't resist, could you?"
"Oh, come now, don't be so tight-lipped," Isabela said, referring to the other woman's expression, "I'm only teasing."
"You might as well let her give it a shot," the dwarf said, "It's not like you've got anything to lose. And if Rivaini can't, then I might be able to."
Hawke thought for a moment before she nodded.
Isabela shifted her weight to her knees and crouched toward her, pulling out some lockpicks from her boots. First, she tested the metal, tapping it lightly as she made her way around. Then she traced around and within the ridges, then the rims. She tinkered and tapped and scratched, even slipping a piece of parchment in between her neck and collar, until the woman was ready to just rip the thing off. Then Varric took his turn, but no matter his efforts it stayed where it was.
"Balls," Isabela said, "How hard can this be? It's just bloody silver!" She pulled out one of her daggers and instructed, "Just sit still."
"Shit, uh, Rivaini-"
But Isabela's blade dragged down through the soft metal, cutting Varric off, a sliver of Hawke's even paler neck shimmering through the space. The newly formed edges wiggled almost imperceptibly, then warped and bent to close the tiny gap, merging and leaving behind no trace of the pirate's attempts. It took a second for Isabela to register that it was once again smooth and plain-looking, slightly tarnished and engraved.
"By the Void, what was that?" Isabela exclaimed.
As Hawke reached down to touch her neck, feeling the unbroken metal, her eyes widened.
After a few moments, Varric asked, "Judging by the look on your face, that wasn't supposed to happen."
"I don't know," she admitted, "It's not as if I've had much opportunity to test it."
"Good point," Varric muttered with a thoughtful frown.
"Can you still use your magic?" Isabela inquired.
Hawke's eyebrows furrowed.
"It's just - I've seen mage shackles once; nothing like this though," the pirate clarified, "But if that's what it is, then at least we'll be starting somewhere."
Hawke's brows eased slightly, but she kept a mild expression of suspicion.
"Here, I've got an idea," the dwarf said, reaching into his coat, where he pulled out a deck of cards, "Let's play a few hands of Diamondback, maybe some Wicked Grace while we're at it. If you can't remember how to play, then at least we'll be social."
"An excellent idea," the Rivaini said, then turned to Hawke and said, "What do you say, Hawke? You in?"
She looked at the deck for a moment, then agreed. Once the game started, it took hardly any explanation at all for her to get into the rhythm of the game. After several hands with Diamondback, they switched to Wicked Grace, taking turns facing each other while they conversed, Hawke mostly just listening to the rogues banter. When they attempted to engage her verbally, her answers were usually short, even a single word. After several hours, a shared late lunch between them, the pair left while Hawke attempted to recuperate from the amount of personal interaction.
By the time she retired that evening, she determined that she was not ensnared by a demon. That meant, however, she would have to be more vigilant against whatever plan her master had crafted for her.